Captain Elizabeth Turner
by Joker-Girl-Kelly
Summary: What if, at the end of AWE, Jones killed Elizabeth instead of Will? I'm not very good at summaries, it's sort of a role reversal. Chapters are sort of one shots. Mostly W/E, implied Calypso/Elizabeth so ye be warned. Characters definitely OOC.
1. Stab the Heart

The rain poured down around them in buckets, cold wet drops stinging their skin. The battle raged on around them, swords and gunfire mixing with the sounds of rain and crackling thunder. Will and Elizabeth share a look as Davy Jones stands between them, threatening to put one or both of them to the sword.

"Ah, love." Jones spits out the word like a curse, catching the look they give eachother. "A dreadful bond." He sends Will a menacing look and turns, more than ready to send another victim to the Locker. "Tell me, Turner, do you fear death?"

"Do you?" Jack's voice rings loud and clear above the cacaphony of other noises surrounding them.

Davy Jones turns to him in surprise, pausing when he sees the heart – his heart – in Jack's one hand and the broken sword hovering above it.

"Heady tonic, holding life and death in the palm of ones hand." Jack's tone is mocking, triumphant. He thinks he's won.

"You're a cruel man, Sparrow." Jones snarls.

"That is a matter of perspective."

"Is it, now? Who's perspective?" Jones questions before spinning around and, without warning, he sends his sword straight through the heart of the person still sitting on the deck behind him.

Jack hesitates, looking horrified, hearing the pained shrieks and groans of Jones' latest victim.

Jones laughs, a cruel, humorless sound that would send a chill down anyones spine.

Elizabeth lays motionless, slumped against the steps she'd tripped on earlier, clutching the sword still sticking out of her chest. Will moves to her side, horrified, carefully taking her into his arms.

"Elizabeth! Stay with me, please!" He begs, rocking her gently back and forth. "It-it's going to be alright. You'll be alright."

The next few moments are a blur for them all as Will's father tackles Jones from behind, prompted by the sound of his sons terrified voice. Jack stares down at the heart in his hand. The broken sword hovered just inches above the thing.

He looks over to Will, cradling Elizabeth in his arms. Elizabeth, the feircesome pirate King, the woman who had just lead them all into battle. She looks so small and fragile, dying in her husbands arms.

Will looks up at the heart in Jack's hand, and then up to meet Jack's eyes. They know they have the same idea. It would be absurd, unthinkable if Elizabeth was any other woman, but there's no time to think about it with her fading so quickly. And besides that, they both know she is not just any other woman.

They haven't got another choice.

Davy Jones has Bill Turner pinned now.

"You will not forestall my judgement!" He snarls and is about to send him overboard…

…and he freezes, twitching uncontrolably, unable to do anything as the echoes of pain tear through his empty chest cavity.

He turns to see who has finally brought about his end. Three people hold the dagger, but only one has it fully in her grasp, her pale delicate hand wrapped completely around the hilt.

He turns his eyes towards the sky.

"C-calypso." He stutters before he falls overboard, forever lost to the watery abyss swirling below them all.

Will begins to panic as Elizabeth stops breathing, going entirely limp in his arms. Jack looks around and knows they must get off the Dutchman as its crew begins to emerge from the dark corners they had been hiding in.

"Part of the ship, part of the crew." They chant their eerie mantra.

He pulls the other man away as best he can, thrusting a rope into his arms and practically throwing him over board, leaving Will no choice but to hang on for dear life. Jack quickly follows behind him, and somehow they both land on the Pearl.

The Dutchman sinks into the swirling water, and for a moment it seems all hope is lost.

Only a breif moment.

The Fleet is still creeping up on them, Beckett's flagship advancing quicker than the rest. They'll never survive.

Or so they think.

The Flying Dutchman breaks through the water, looking much less macabre, its sails no longer tattered and wood no longer encrusted with sea creatures.

The crew look like normal people again. Will runs to the railing of the Pearl, looking out on the other ship, hoping against hope that Elizabeth will be among them.

He can't help but to give a small smile when he sees his Elizabeth turn around at the helm of the ship that now belongs to her, her hair pulled back into a quick braid behind her and the Asian dress she wore cut open at the chest. A nasty, bright red scar is just visible beneath it.

"Ready on the guns!" She yells, clutching the helm with the same hand that stabbed Jones' heart, her voice loud and clear and confident. She no longer looks so small or fragile.

"Full canvas!" Jack shouts, grinning.

Will's smile widens as he turns quickly and prepares to help with one of the Pearl's cannons. Together they blow Beckett and his ship straight out of the water.

* * *

><p>She's waiting patiently for him when he rows up in his long boat. The Chest is sitting on a rock; her sword is stuck in the sand just next to it. He wonders briefly how she got here so quick, but then he remembers Jones' trick of appearing out of nowhere and decides not to waist the time asking if she can do the same now. He has no desire to know the details.<p>

He sticks his sword in the sand, crossing hers, and approaches her.

"Elizabeth." He says her name quietly, because he can think of nothing else to say.

She says nothing at all, but smiles sadly, and pulls him close. The kiss she gives him is wild and passionate and hungry and very unlike her, but he certainly doesn't complain, and before he knows it he is trailing kisses down her very bare skin. Just one day; no time to waist.

It is over far too quickly. The sun is setting now.

"Will." She says, her voice soft.

"I know." He replies. His hand trails up her still bare leg, followed by his lips.

"I'm going to be needing that." She says, sounding a little amused, tearing her eyes from his still bare chest to peer over his shoulder at the small boot behind him.

He sighs and picks it up, reluctantly handing it to her.

She slips it on before walking over to take the Chest, staring down at it for a moment before holding it out to him. She's looking him straight in the eye, her gaze intense.

"You may not believe it, but my heart has always belonged to you. Keep it safe, please? Just don't bury it on an island somewhere…"

"I would never do that, Elizabeth." He responds, sounding almost indignant, taking the Chest into his own hands.

The sun has sunk halfway below the horizon by now. They have mere moments. She takes her sword and sheaths it; turns back to him.

"I love you, Will. So very much."

"And I love you, my Elizabeth."

They share one last passionate kiss and then she turns, heading towards her ship and is gone, disappearing just before she hits the water. He sits and watches as her ship slowly turns, sailing off into the sun, and is gone as well.


	2. She's Yours

_They share one last passionate kiss and then she turns, heading towards her ship and is gone, disappearing just before she hits the water. He sits and watches as her ship slowly turns, sailing off into the sun, and is gone as well._

_~A year later.~_

Elizabeth stares down at the baby in her arms, sleeping peacefully as ever, completely unaware of what is about to happen. A tear slides down her cheek, just one, and she refuses to give in to the incredible sadness bearing down on her. It's for the best, she knows. She has a job to do and even a normal ship is hardly a place for a baby.

A tiny voice in the back of her mind, the small part of her that is still Elizabeth the governors daughter, tells her a ship is no place for a married woman either. She ignores it like the pirate she's become. It's not as though she has a choice.

"What if he is not there, Cap'n?" A quiet, hesitant voice asks. She takes a deep breath before responding, her voice sure and steady.

"Then you'll have to bring her back. I'll think of something." She places a gentle kiss on the sleeping babe's forhead before handing her off to her first mate, and her voice takes on a rare threatening tone. "If you come back without him, though, and I find out that you did not hand him straight over to his father, Bill…"

Bill Turner carries his granddaughter carefully in his arms.

"Don't worry, Cap'n Turner." He replies. "She is my granddaughter, after all."

This seems to calm her, if only a little, and she begins to lower the long boat the rest of the way into the water. She watches as her father-in-law cradles the baby while another crewmen paddles them to shore and longs to be going with them.

9 years, 1 month and 3 weeks seems like an absolute eternity.

She feels as though she may cry again. She orders another crewmen to keep watch as she slips below into the belly of the Dutchman. She sits in the organ room and plays a simple, sad tune to drown out the sound of her sobs.

Above deck the sails seem to wilt and the sky darkens. The ship creaks and groans, responding to its captain's dark mood.

No one dares to ask if she's alright.

* * *

><p>Fate has an odd way of cutting things close. Will has only just walked out of the tavern he and Jack always go to whilst in Tortuga when he is stopped by none other than his father. The fact that Bill Turner is there at all is odd enough.<p>

The fact that he's there carrying a crying infant, telling Will that the child is his, is almost more than Will's mind can process at once. Well, almost more considering his head is swimming in several tankards of rum, anyways.

"I'm..a father?" He stares down at the baby with dull eyes, trying to clear his thoughts a little, unwilling to believe it. "But what am I supposed to…"

His father sighs.

"Yes, that is what happens when a man and woman make love. Have you heard anything else I said, or is that all that made it through your rum-soaked head?" It was a rather harsh thing to say, but the way Elizabeth talked about Will made it seem as though he wasn't like other men. Bill did not fancy the idea of his son becoming too much a pirate. "You're to take care of her; she cannot stay with Elizabeth."

Will takes the child into his arms, very gentle, if hesitant and a little awkward. The babe's screams die down some, as though she can sense the man holding her is her father.

"Right, yes, of course she can't." Will says, his thoughts beginning to catch up with him. "Uhm, h-how is Elizabeth?"

"She can't stand having to give the baby up. But she's stronger than any woman I've met before. I know she will be alright."

Will only nods, his attentions focused almost solely on his daughter now. He knows his Elizabeth plenty well enough to believe what Bill says.

"Did she name her?"

Bill smiles now.

"Emily Turner."

"Elizabeth's mother's name was Emily, I think." Will chuckles softly, holding the baby a little closer as he swears he can feel her shivering. "I'll call her Emily Elizabeth. My daughter. I know nothing about taking care of a baby, but I'll do my best."

"That's all she would ask."

"Send her all my love."

Bill doesn't respond. Will sees movement out of the corner of his eye, and when he looks up, his father is gone.


	3. Settling Down

Elizabeth stares in horror at the wreckage before her. There's almost nothing left of the ship, which must have been quite large judging by the amount of burning wood she can see.

"Slow and steady, Mister Turner." She says to Bill as he steers the Dutchman closer. "My god, what could anyone possibly have done to deserve…" She shakes her head, forcing such thoughts away. She knows better by now then to dwell on it.

There are few left with even a spark of life in them; ferrying their submissive souls will be almost too simple a task.

"At least their guide is gentle and willing to offer them a kind word." Bill reminds her, as he always does.

She doesn't respond.

She senses it easily when the last of the victims boards the ship because the person is frightened, terrified.

One must still be alive to feel terror.

"It's alright. It's all over now." Elizabeth approaches the woman slowly. The poor thing is so covered in blood that Elizabeth cannot tell where her wounds even are. She won't last much longer, that is for certain. Elizabeth kneels down beside her. The woman flinches. She is wearing men's clothing, just as Elizabeth is, and is the only other female pirate Elizabeth has encountered so far.

"I won't hurt you, I promise." Elizabeth says slowly. "I have only one question. Do you fear death?"

The woman hesitates, meeting Elizabeth's eyes. Elizabeth perceives her with more than mortal senses and her stomach turns at the realization that the woman is younger than her, and is in fact little more than a girl. She swollows back the feeling with practiced control, forcing her expression to remain kind but indifferent.

"Y-yes." The girl stammers quietly and begins sobbing.

"What's your name?"

"E-Emily. Emily Marie Chase."

Elizabeth stiffens, an involuntary reaction upon hearing her baby daughter's name. The girl notices her reaction immediately and recoils as though expecting something bad to happen.

"Forgive me; you've done nothing wrong." Elizabeth assures her quickly, forcing herself to relax.

"I-it's not like anyone even knows that name. I-I go by Marie. Only Marie."

Another member of the crew approaches them, ready to take care of the ships newest addition as he has done at least twice before, but Elizabeth dismisses him with a wave of her hand.

"I'll see to her myself, Perry. Make sure the rest are taken care of." She turns back to the girl. "Come. We'll get you cleaned up." She looks up to Bill, still at the helm. "Steer us clear of the wreck and prepare for a dive. We'll cross over when I'm finished here."

"Aye Cap'n." He nods, looking curious but saying nothing further as she helps the girl stand and leads her away.

Elizabeth is always kind to the people they ferry, but usually very detatched as well. He wonders what makes this girl special, but knows better than to ask. Elizabeth will say something if and when she's ready.

* * *

><p>William Turner has everything he needs to start an honest life.<p>

He's found a small island town, isolated enough from any British ports, and is well on his way to setting himself up as a blacksmith. He's found a small cottage that will serve him well as both a shop and a home.

And, to top all of that off, he has a beautiful baby daughter to take care of. He should be perfectly content right where he is.

And yet he is sure he's never felt more restless in his life. The sea calls to him in a way that it never did before. He feels even farther from his Elizabeth on land. And he hasn't a clue how to care for a child, especially one so small.

It's only until Emily is a little older, he tells himself. A ship is no place for a baby. He can figure this out.

It isn't long before one of the women in the village notices him and his odd predicament. Most keep there distance from him, unsure of him and his vague origins. But this woman, named Jade, seems intent on making friends with him. The first time she comes to his shop it's to order a sword made for her older brother, who happens to be a sailor.

By the fourth time she visits, he can't help but to admit that he enjoys her company, odd though it is that she seems to care about him at all.

"I can help you with Emily, you know." Jade says one day when she walks in to see him feeding the all-too-adorable baby girl. "I mean, if you need someone to watch her so you can work, or just relax."

He's surprised; such a suggestion hadn't occurred to him before.

"I suppose. The gentle touch of a woman would probably do her well. With her mother gone…" He trails off and heaves a sigh.

"Where is her mother?" Jade asks gently.

He doesn't respond at first, a far off look in his eyes.

"Forgive me. Perhaps that was too forward."

"No, no. It's a fair question to ask. Elizabeth is.. gone. Lost to the sea."

"Lost to the sea? I can see why you'd rather be on land, then."

He stays quiet again, lost in thought now. To say that Elizabeth is lost to the sea doesn't seem right somehow, he thinks. More like she _is_ the sea. How can he explain how being at sea makes him feel all that much closer to her?

"Don't be so certain of that. If it weren't for this little one," he says, taking Emily into his arms as she coos happily, "I wouldn't be here."

She raises and eyebrow.

"Not that I'm complaining." He adds hastily.

"Right, of course not." She seems amused now. She stands and goes to take the baby from his arms and he allows her to do so, allbeit with a little reluctance.

Emily smiles up at Jade as she cradles her expertly in her arms.

"Why don't I take this little one for the night? My brother is going down to the tavern with some of his men. He says you're welcome to come along, as always."

"I don't know." He replies, unsure.

"Do you not trust me? Not that I would blame you if you do not." She says, sincerely.

"No, it's not that. It's just that… I can't help but to remember that her mother never liked the idea of me drinking."

Jade sighs.

"That's not much of an excuse. You can't stay cooped up in this stuffy place forever. Surely you must want to get out; most men would hate being stuck here with a child."

"I'm not most men. But I suppose you're right; it would be nice to get out." He concedes.

"That's the spirit." She grins. "I'll even stay here with Emily if you'd like. Or I could take her to my cottage, it's not far you know."

"I suppose..you could take her..just for tonight. I'll come round to get her, first thing in the morning."

Jade gives him a triumphant smile.

"Wonderful! I'll go tell my brother." She bustles out of the shop, Emily still held firmly in her arms.

The thought crosses his mind that she'd make a wonderful mother. He pushes it away quickly, unsure of where it even came from, and thinks that perhaps Jade really had been right.

He needed to get out. And maybe, with a bit of rum, he'd sleep heavily enough not to dream of Elizabeth, as he always seems to.

Such dreams would not be so unwelcome if she didn't die at the end of all of them.


	4. Of Pirates and Papas

Some would think it almost cruel at times, the way she does things. Of course, that was only because they hadn't seen how things _used_ to work on the Flying Dutchman.

Captain Elizabeth Turner is not ashamed of what she wears or how she acts or the fact that she can fight. It has always seemed silly to her that most women would be. She cares very little about what they think. She has survived much more than any other woman could because she was willing to step outside the boundries of propriety; why should she care what anyone else thinks of her?

She learns early on, however, that it's not other woman she has to be worried about, not anymore. It's the men that cause her trouble. Some are too bold and quite brazen from the beginning; they are not hesitant in voicing their opinions about being given such an awful choice.

_Do you fear death?_

_Better to die than serve under some sea whore pretending to be a captain._

Such remarks are met with a quick flash of steel as these men meet the wrong end of her blade. She has no sympathy for such pig-headed men, nor does she want to be seen as weak, kind though she usually is.

These incidents are few and far between, though. Most are smart enough keep such comments to themselves.

The real trouble comes when they decide to start directing their resentment at the only other female on board the ship. Marie, Elizabeth has learned, is a mere 16 years old. She had been a stowaway on the ship she was on; she was very lucky that they hadn't killed her the moment they found her. She was feisty, but young, and barely knew how to use the sword she carried. Elizabeth has grown very protective of her over the year she has been around.

The first time it happens, Marie is off in a corner on deck, practicing with her sword as Elizabeth has taught her.

"Not too bad, missy." One of the crewmen, a large beast of a man known only as Adams, approaches her. Two other crewmen are watching them from just across the deck.

"Thanks." She replies stiffly.

"No doubt the Captain taught you that?"

"Yes." She keeps her answers curt.

He snorts.

"Would you, perhaps, like to test your new skills against a real fighter?"

Marie knows she will most likely lose; he is twice her size and she is not a very good fighter, not at all. But she refuses to back down from a challenge.

She drops into a ready postion, sword held out in front of her.

"O-of course."

He comes at her so quickly that she hardly has time to react. He lands one blow after another, laughing in amusement as she franticly tries to fend him off. She scrambles backwards, stumbles, lands roughly on her back, and in her panic she does the only thing she can think to do.

"C-captain Turner!" She calls as loud as she can, hoping that the older woman will be kind enough to come save her from her stupid mistake.

It's the fear in the girls voice that sets her running out of her cabin as fast as she does. She looks across the deck to see Adams hovering over Marie's small frame with a nasty leer on his face.

Rage takes over Elizabeth, sudden and intense rage. She isn't used to feeling anger quite this strongly and before she knows it she is standing behind Adams, sword drawn, glaring as harshly as she is capable.

He can feel her presence and stiffens before spinning around to face her. She goes at him in much the same fashion that he went at Marie.

He stands even less of a chance against his Captain as Marie stood against him, and he knows it with the first lunge she gives.

Elizabeth backs him up to the side of the ship. He glances back quickly at the sea below them and his eyes widen in fear as he turns back to her. In one swift move she moves her sword, twisting it around his when he goes to block her, throwing it out of his hand.

He has never fought a man so fast and so swift with a blade, let alone a woman. She holds her sword up to his neck.

"You will not threaten her like that again. Understood?"

He only stares at her in shock.

"Understood?" She snaps, and she's pressing the tip of her sword ever so lightly against his neck now.

"A-aye Cap'n!" He stutters.

He has no idea of how sorely she is tempted to send him overboard.

She lowers her sword slowly.

"Good." She holds her sword straight up in front of her, examining it. "Three hours a day, I used to practice with this, against my husband. One of the best swordsmen most have ever seen. Keep that in mind next time you decide to threaten another of my crew."

He nods and scrambles to get away. She sheaths her sword and walks over to Marie, helping the girl to her feet.

"I'm fine. Thank you Captain."

"I couldn't very well have let him hurt you." She replies.

Marie is shaking, looking frightened. Elizabeth can't remember a time where Marie was frightened of her, except when she first came on board the ship.

Elizabeth turns without another word and heads back into her cabin. She enters it quickly, closes and locks the door, and turns around, collapsing to sit against it.

She stares at the floor, taking deep though unnecessary breathes, and wonders when exactly she became so arrogant. She'd been seriously tempted to kill the man. It had felt good, being able to so easily beat him.

The word _pirate_ echoes through her mind, and for the first time in a long time Elizabeth Turner finds herself worrying about just what she's becoming.

* * *

><p>"Will!" He hears Jade's melodious voice calling to him from just outside the shop where he's been working for the past hour. "Will, come quick!"<p>

He drops his hammer and rushes out, worried at the urgence in her voice.

"What is it?" He asks, coming up behind Jade. She smiles over her shoulder at him.

"See for yourself."

He looks past her and his eyes widen when he sees his daughter, a month past her first birthday, slowly making her way towards him-standing upright on her two tiny legs.

"Emily! That's wonderful!" He gets down on one knee as his daughter takes one last awkward step before teetering and falling into his arms.

"Papa!" She exclaims her favorite word in her adorable baby squeal as he picks her up.

"I'm so proud of you, my girl!" He kisses her forhead and gently tickles her stomach and she squeals again in delight. Jade smiles broadly at his displays of affection.

"She's so lucky to have you as a father."

He looks up to her with a questioning look.

"You're just such a good man." She comes closer, looking down at the baby. "So loving. You don't often find a man willing to take such good care of his own child on his own, you know."

"Well, uhm, I think," he babbles a little, nervous because of how close she is, "that you give me a bit too much credit, Jade."

"Not at all, Will." She looks up to him and smiles again and then before he can react she places the breifest of kisses against his lips and turns to walk away.

"I'll see you tommorrow." She calls over her shoulder.

He stares after her in shock, frozen to the spot. Emily has quieted down now and lets out a little yawn as she snuggles closer to her father, laying her head on his shoulder.

He looks down at her.

"Oh, Emily. Just what am I to do with _that_?"

_**Updates will not always be this often, I can almost guarentee it. I've just been full of ideas for the past few days for no apparent reason.**_

_**Anyways, hope you enjoy. Review please. :)**_


	5. Celebrations

"Cap'n!" Bill Turner calls out, standing outside the door to Elizabeth's cabin. "I have another letter for you!"

He hears her walk quickly across the floor and within moments she is in front of him.

"Forgive me for disturbing you, but…" He trails off as she waves off the apology, taking the letter from him.

"I did tell you to bring it to me. Thank you." She sits down at her desk and opens it eagerly.

He enters her cabin, walking slowly across the room to stand opposite her. Elizabeth isn't the only one who wants to know how Will is fairing. This has become a routine.

She reads in silence, and smiles at length.

"He says more about Emily than he does himself."

"I don't blame him. I'm sure she's a wonderful girl."

"She's just turned five. He wrote the letter on her birthday."

She continues reading. The mildest of blushes rises to her pail cheeks as she comes to the end of it; Will has quite a way with words sometimes.

Her eyes widen at his last few sentences, though.

_I dreamt of you last night, as I always do, and the strangest of ideas has come into my head. I was wondering, perhaps if Emily and I were on a ship, what would stop you from paying us a visit? I cannot recall anything about the curse that says you cannot see us; only that you cannot step on land…_

"Elizabeth?" Bill asks, his voice taking on an almost fatherly quality, as he is known to allow it to every so often. "May I ask what he wrote that has you looking so happy?"

She folds the letter back up and pulls open a drawer in her desk, placing it inside with care.

"Just an idea he's got into his head. A very interesting idea." She stands. "Have we got any spirits on board, Bill?"

"Cap'n?" He gives her a questioning look.

"I feel like celebrating a bit. I think one night off would not hurt." She heads out of her cabin. He follows behind her.

"I'm sure it wouldn't. I believe we do have rum. What are we celebrating, if I may ask?"

She smiles at him as she heads up on deck.

"My daughters birthday, of course."

He knows there is more, but Eilizabeth's mood has so brightened that he feels it's not fair question her. Instead he helps to bring out the rum as she instructs him to and enjoys the much lighter atmosphere the ship has taken on along with her captain.

Elizabeth approaches Marie as the girl stares blankly down at the bottle of amber liquid she's just been handed.

"You've never had rum before."

Marie shakes her head.

"Vile drink if you ask me. No offense, Captain."

Elizabeth chuckles.

"I once said the same thing, believe it or not." Elizabeth responds before taking the bottle from her and bringing to her own lips. She takes a long swig without so much as flinching, then offers it back to Marie. The girl accepts it and, her curiousity getting the best of her, takes a small sip…

…then hands it back to Elizabeth as her eyes widen and she coughs.

Her captain only laughs, a geniune, musical sound that isn't often heard from her.

"Drink up me hearties, yo ho." Elizabeth sings as she takes another sip.

* * *

><p>Emily Elizabeth Turner is more curious than frightened when she wakes to see that her papa is not in his bed. She gets up and runs over to the door way, looking into the small room that serves as a kitchen for them. He's not there either. It's hardly like Papa to just leave her alone.<p>

Where could he be?

She goes back over to her bed and pulls on her shoes, then makes her way out of their cabin. She is immediately met with the sound of music playing somewhere not too far off; the tune is lively, meant for dancing.

Oh! Now she remembers. One of her papa's friends has just married today. They are having a party. She makes her way down the street, knowing exactly where to head now.

In a town as small and calm as the one their in, everyone knows everyone, and anyone is welcome to celebrations like this one. Her papa would have had little reason to worry about her, sleeping soundly in her bed, with few remembering she was even there.

Miss Jade was probably the one to make him go. Miss Jade was always doing that, trying to get her papa to leave, especially when it meant Miss Jade could spend time with him.

The party is being held at the largest house in the town, and the gate has been left open, welcoming all to join in. Emily walks in and tries to weave her way through the crowd of people, looking for her father. When she finally spots him, his is dancing with Miss Jade, and she hesitates to go up to them.

Miss Jade sees her though and smiles wide, pointing towards her. Her papa looks to her now, and lets go of Miss Jade's hands, coming up to her.

"I'm sorry, Papa." She says, sheepish, expecting him to be upset. "I woke up and you were gone."

"It's alright, Emily." He says, breaking into a wide smile to match Miss Jades. "I'm not upset. Would you like to dance?"

Her eyes widen and she nods her head, returning his smile. He takes her tiny hands into his and begins to dance with her, going on like this for a few dances before a slower tune is played and Miss Jade insists she have him back. Emily sits at a table off to the side and watches, her little arms crossed over her chest.

She remembers in perfect detail all the stories her papa tells her about her mother and why she is not their with them. She believes every word of them.

Which is why, as the very perceptive five year old watches her papa dance away with Miss Jade, she decides that she really doesn't like the woman. She really doesn't like her one bit.


	6. The Fickle Thing Called Love

"Emily?"

Emily hears her papa's voice coming from somewhere behind her. She turns from where she's been staring out at the sea surrounding them and watches as he walks up and smiles down at her.

"It's beautiful, isn't it."

She nods.

"Especially now with the sun shining."

"More like setting now. You should be getting to bed soon. Did you eat the food I brought you?"

She rolls her eyes and nods again.

"Yes, Papa. I already told you, I'm not seasick like Miss Jade."

"Emily." He chides her. "I'm only trying to be certain. I want to make sure seeing your mother is a happy occasion."

She nods. The sun has nearly disappeared now. It's getting dark.

"If I come to bed now, will you tell me one of the stories?" She asks, hopeful. Her Papa has been spending so much time trying to help Miss Jade, he hasn't told her any of the stories in several nights.

There is nothing she loves more than to hear about her mother. Well, maybe not _nothing_ she loves more. Not now that she has the sea to add on to her list of things that she loves. The sea might even come before her papa's hugs on that list, and she really loves her papa's hugs.

The five year old is staring back out to the water by now, lost in her thoughts, and jumps a little when her papa touches her shoulder, chuckling softly.

"You've not heard a word I've said, have you Emily?"

She turns back to him, sheepish.

"Sorry, Papa."

"It's alright. Yes, I'll tell you a story. Go on down to our cabin. I'm going to check on Miss Jade; I'll only be a minute."

She frowns up at him.

"Humph. Why did Miss Jade have to come with us anyways? All she does is complain about how much she hates the water. I don't think she likes Uncle Jack, either."

"Now, Emily," her papa's tone turns scolding, "Miss Jade has done a lot for us. You'd best be careful what you say about her. She won't be around for much longer, I promise. She's only come with because she wants to see her mother in England."

"Why couldn't she go on her brothers ship, then?" Emily grumbles.

"Emily, that's enough."

She crosses her little arms and nods, then stomps off to their cabin, the frown never leaving her face. Miss Jade seems to follow her papa everywhere now, and Emily doesn't like it. She wishes her Uncle Jack would've said no to Miss Jade coming; after all, they were on _his_ ship. But he hadn't said a word about it.

He _had_ told Emily, though, that she might try destracting her papa from Miss Jade by reminding him of her mother. She wasn't exactly sure what about Miss Jade was so destracting to begin with; she'd asked her Uncle Jack, and he had only laughed.

"_Yer far too young for that, lass. Give it another ten years and then ask yer father." _

Not knowing why didn't matter that much. She knew exactly how to make her papa think about her mother.

She is lying in her hammock in a corner of the cabin when he joins her a little while later.

"Now, which story would you like me to tell you? How about the battle on the Dutchman?"

That one is usually her favorite, but tonight she has other things on her mind because of Miss Jade.

"I wanna hear the one where you and mother had your first kiss! When you saved Uncle Jack!"

He chuckles.

"I thought you liked it better when Uncle Jack was the one telling that story."

"But he can't tell it like you do! I want to hear about the kiss too!"

"Well, alright then. As you wish. So, there we were, watching as your Uncle Jack was lead up to the gallows. The sun was blazing hot that day…"

"And mother was wearing one of those awful corsets." Emily blanches. Miss Jade has been insisting that Will keep her in nice little dresses, and they are uncomfortable enough without the awful things her papa described.

"Yes, she was. She looked so very beautiful that day." Her papa smiles fondly as he remembers. "And I made my way through the crowd to your mother and her father, because I wanted to tell her…"

"That you loved her!" Emily chimes in again with all her usual five-year-old enthusiasm.

"Would you like to tell the story? You know it just as well as I, it seems." Her papa's eyes shine with his amusement.

She shakes her head.

"Sorry, Papa. I'll be quiet." She gives him a sheepish grin. "Tell me what you said to mother!"

"Alright. 'I should have told you every day from the moment I met you. I love you.' I told her, and…"

* * *

><p><em><strong>Short chapter, just some sort of fluff. I wanted to take a break from all the sword fights and awkward angsty moments.<strong>_

_**Thanks to all who reviewed (AngieRosie, xkuroxshinobix, TheOneAndOnlyBellaRiddle). Sorry for not responding properly. I've only just now gotten to writing these chapters. Curse you school and track practice, sucking away all my energy!**_

_**Anyways, I'll shut up now. More reveiws are always appreciated. (:**_


	7. Uncibilized Pirates and Distractions

Elizabeth is glowing in a way that she hasn't in a very long time when the _Flying Dutchman_ finally comes up alongside the _Black Pearl_. She wants so very badly to see her daughter that she is tempted to use her powers and simply appear on the other ship the moment she sees it, the way Davy Jones often had. She refrains, though, not wanting to startle anyone (particularly her daughter), and instead waits to board the other ship the way anyone else would.

_The way any other _living_ being would_. A voice taunts her in her mind, but she refuses to listen to it. Nothing will bring her down this day.

Will is waiting patiently on the deck of the _Pearl_ when she finally arrives. At first they simply stare at eachother, each almost unwilling to believe that the other is really there. Then he comes forward and scoops her up into his arms, twirling her around happily. She is the one to kiss him when he finally sets her down, and it is a wild and passionate kiss that hints at a promise of more later on.

He pushes her away gently after a moment, smiling.

"We are being stared at, you know."

She smiles back and a hint of a blush creeps up her cheeks.

"Yes, of course." Her eyes widen. "Where's Emily? She is with you, isn't she?"

"Yes, of course. Emily?"

Elizabeth turns around as Will calls out the name over her shoulder. She is frozen for a breif moment when she sees the little brown haired girl, half hiding shyly behind the legs of one Captain Jack Sparrow. Jack looks down at her, his eyes dancing with amusement, and nudges her forward. Elizabeth is shocked by the affection in his voice when he speaks to Emily.

"Well, on ye go. She's been all ye've talked about this entire trip, silly girl."

Emily walks up slowly, looking up at Elizabeth. Elizabeth gets down on both knees, sitting in front of the five year old. She reaches out a hand, hesitant and almost too gentle, and brushes the girl's cheek with her fingers, tucking a strand of her long brown hair back behind her little ears.

"Mother?" Emily says, her voice quiet and shy.

"Yes." Elizabeth smiles. "Yes, dear."

Without warning Emily throws her arms around Elizabeth's neck, hugging her tightly. Elizabeth stiffens at first, over come by the most irrational fear that she'll break the little one clinging to her if she so much as touches her again with her scarred and calloused hands.

Motherly instinct soon erases that fear completely and she wraps her arms around Emily, holding her tight.

She is only vaguely aware of Jack's shouting at the crew to get back to whatever they were supposed to be doing. She stands with Emily still in her arms, placing the five year old firmly on the hip that does not have her sword hanging from it, and turns to Will.

Emily seems to look down at what her mother is wearing, running a hand along the sleeve of her tunic.

"Humph. Papa won't let me wear pants. It's always these silly dresses."

Elizabeth raises her eyebrows.

"Oh, well how awful of him." She tries to hide her smile, glancing at Will.

"Well, it's Miss Jade that wants me to wear them."

"Miss..Jade?" Elizabeth's brows furrow now.

Emily nods.

"She's Papa's friend."

"Is she now?" Elizabeth looks to Will again, her eyes narrowing, any trace of amusement disappearing from them. He doesn't blush, which she knows is a good sign with him, but even so…

Jack clears his throat.

"Their cabins next to me own. Why don't ye go and have a talk."

She misses the glare Will sends in Jack's direction.

"A very good idea, Jack." Elizabeth begins heading towards said cabin. "Tell me about Miss Jade, won't you Emily?"

"Well, she always says Papa should make me wear these dresses. She says only pirates and, uhm, 'unci-bil-ized wenches' don't wear them."

Elizabeth doesn't respond for a long moment, just keeps walking, a tight lipped expression placed upon her face. When they reach the small cabin Emily and Will stay in, Elizabeth sets her down.

"Mother? Are you ok?"

"Yes, dear, I am fine." She takes a deep breath and glances at Will when he comes up alongside her. "So, I gather you don't much care for Miss Jade?"

Emily shakes her head energetically.

"No! She's mean and she complains too much! I wish she'd leave me alone!"

"Emily!" Will exclaims. Elizabeth sighs.

"My goddess, I'm almost sorry I asked."

* * *

><p>"She's only five years old. It's not half as bad as it sounds, I promise. It's only because she knows Jade is not her mother. If you were to tell her the same things, I'm sure she wouldn't complain quite so much." Will is sitting calmly on his bed while Elizabeth stands before him, her arms crossed.<p>

"And what makes you think I would tell her such things?"

"Well, I just mean… things are very different… you're out at sea, you can't be expected to…" He attempts to explain, and finally gives up, his shoulders slumping. "And here I was so sure nothing could go wrong."

She takes a breath and relaxes, if only slightly.

"I know things are different, but I don't think I like this woman being around my daughter if she's going to tell her such things."

"Jade has been very helpful to me, Elizabeth. I had no idea how to take care of a child, much less a girl, and Emily's so much like you. She _wants_ to _be_ just like you. I worry about her and I don't know what I would do without Jade there to help me teach her what's right for a girl."

"What's right…for a girl?" Elizabeth questions.

"I'm sure I didn't mean it the way your about to take it." He says, weary.

She is about to say something in return, but hesitates. She has been here for two hours already now, and does not wish to push her luck when it comes to taking breaks from her duties.

"I'm sorry. I'm afraid being away from you is starting to get to me. I can't help but to think about what could happen and I…"

He is standing now and cuts her off with a kiss that should leave little room for doubt of where his heart still lies.

And, for a short while, while they are alone in that small cabin, together as husband and wife again, all doubts are washed away.

If only for a while.


	8. Calypso

As untamable as Calypso is, Elizabeth has to admit that she is not as cruel as the whole thing with Davy Jones has at first made her think. The goddess is actually very kind at times, in her way. She visits Elizabeth often when she is dreaming, on nights when the _Dutchman'_s Captain feels particularly lonely. At first she is suspicious of the goddess, but after a while she finds that she enjoys these dreams. The goddess does well to bring her short periods of genuine peace, making her dream that she is on land, feeling the sand beneath her bare feet.

The goddess herself never actually appears, but Elizabeth can feel her presence in a unique way; the way the waves in her dreams seem to whisper to her, the way the sun seems to caress her skin as it bathes her in a gentle warmth, the way the water seems to caress her skin when she wades into it.

Elizabeth isn't quite sure if Calypso is capable of having friends, but her goddess seems to be trying to be helpful, and she knows better than to be ungreatful. It takes some time, but eventually Elizabeth learns to trust her goddess.

It is only when she admits it to herself that she's beginning to long for the nights when her goddess comes to her that the dreams begin to change their tune. Calypso begins to appear in person, taking on the form of Tia Dalma, but much more beautiful and much less ragged. They talk sometimes, and sometimes they just walk along the shore. Elizabeth isn't quite sure what any of it means. She also isn't quite sure she _wants_ to know.

When her goddess appears on the deck of the _Flying Dutchman_ in all her strange beauty, beckoning Elizabeth forward, she isn't stunned like the rest of her crew. She walks forward obediently and bows reverently, as she does every time she sees Calypso.

"My goddess." She says, keeping her head down in respect until her goddesses somewhat amused voice tells her to stand, just as she always does.

She does so and watches as her goddess looks around as though inspecting the ship they are on.

"Ye be takin much better care of her den her last captain." She praises in her strange accent. "Come, Lizzie. I have sometin to tell ye." She turns gracefully and walks below decks towards Elizabeth's cabin.

The crew turn their stares on their Captain, shocked at the familiarity with which the goddess addressed her. Bill and Marie both look oddly worried.

Elizabeth's eyes narrow as she surveys them all.

"What are you looking at?" She bellows as she stalks across the deck after her goddess. "Back to work, the lot you!" She can hear them scrambling to do as she told them as she too disappears below decks.

She walks into her open cabin door and is surprised to be met with a kind smile from her goddess.

"Dat be very pretty ring ye have dere." She gestures towards Elizabeth's left hand, the one on whose finger rests a small and ornately carved golden wedding ring.

Elizabeth gives a sad smile, twisting the ring on her finger with her other hand.

"Will gave it to me the last time I saw him. He has one too."

Her goddess's eyes look sad now. Elizabeth's brow furrows.

"A touch of destiny." She says quietly and steps closer to Elizabeth. "Come. I will take us somewhere more pleasant to tell ye what I must." She reaches out a hand and gently touches the left side of Elizabeth's chest.

Elizabeth pauses for a moment, then gasps suddenly as her lungs feel ready to burst for want of air.

For the first time in six years, she feels the _need_ to breath.

Her hand flies to her chest as the scene around her changes from that of her dimly lit cabin to that of the beach she has so often been allowed to visit in her dreams. She looks around with wide eyes, then down at the sand beneath her boots. This is no dream. Her hand still clutches her chest.

She jumps when she realizes she can feel her heart beating inside it.

* * *

><p>Elizabeth is sitting calmly in the sand, the coat she wore as well as her sword and boots all laying discarded a short ways away. She is leaning back with her eyes closed, enjoying the feel of being alive and it not being a dream, knowing instinctively that this is a special gift and will not last very long.<p>

"May I inquire as to what I did to deserve something this..wonderful?" She asks aloud, her eyes still closed, because she can feel her goddess's presence grow stronger as she appears beside her in the sand.

"What makes ye tink ye must do sometin special for me to give ye a gift?" Calypso replies.

Elizabeth opens her eyes to look at her goddess. Her eyes look sad again.

"I have sometin to tell ye. Dere be a way to break de curse."

Elizabeth straightens up, her eyes widening.

"How?" She asks.

"If your William stays true to ye for de rest of dese ten years," she pauses, gazing at Elizabeth with her dark, intense eyes, "den ye may go free."

"Oh! That's.. wonderful news!" Elizabeth exclaims. "J-just wait until I tell him! And Emily, oh my little Emily! I'll be able to watch her grow! Oh, how I would so much like that!" She is so excited that it takes her a moment to notice that her goddess seems to grow even sadder.

"Tell me, my Lizzie. How much do ye really trust 'im dat ye gave yah heart?"

'My Lizzie.' Strange, her goddess has never said that before.

"I should think," Elizabeth replies slowly, "that my giving him my heart would be answer enough for that question."

"Ye have yah doubts."

Elizabeth doesn't respond.

"As well ye should." She turns her eyes out towards the water when Elizabeth still says nothing. "Ye once wished for a pirate to call yah own. William Turnah loved ye so much, he became exactly what yah wanted. De only question now is, do ye want what yah now 'ave got?"

Elizabeth ponders this for a moment.

"May I see him? See what he's doing now? Is that possible?"

Her goddess nods once and a large mirror appears before them, stuck in the sand. Will appears in it, surrounded by other men in what appears to be a tavern of sorts. He has obviously been drinking, and smiles wide when a woman approaches him.

A woman that easily fits Emily's discription of Jade. She pulls him out of his seat and he places a hand awfully low on her waist as they begin to dance.

Elizabeth looks away, not wanting to know what will happen next. The mirror disappears. She feels no anger, not as this Elizabeth, alive and well sitting on a beautiful beach. Only sadness.

Her goddess's voice is gentle and quiet when she speaks again.

"He has remained faithful so far, but I cannot guarentee he will remain so for another four years."

"I understand. I suppose I shall just have to wait and see. I don't know what I'll do if…"

"I cannot protect yah from what yah might become when you are not in my world." The goddess gestures to the beautiful world around them. "Whatevah happens, you must remember not to lose yahself."

The warning causes a sense of dread to settle in the pit of Elizabeth's stomach as her goddess reminds her of fears she's had for some time now. It mixes with her sadness, overwhelming her. She feels a tear slide down her cheek and turns away from her goddess to hide it.

Her goddess is in front of her again before she knows what is happening. A warm hand caresses her cheek.

"My Lizzie." The words, spoken low and husky this time, send a familiar tingling sensation traveling down Elizabeth's spine. Will has been known to make her react like that by simply saying 'Elizabeth'… She gives her goddess a questioning look.

Her goddess leans in and places a kiss on her forehead, and suddenly she lurches forward with a shriek, clutching her chest again.

"Don' forget yahself, Captain Turnah. Please." The words are a whisper all around her as there is a gust of wind and suddenly Elizabeth is back in her cabin, dressed fully as she was before she was whisked away.

She can no longer feel her heart in her chest. She drops her hand in disgust and snorts as her old doubts about Calypso return full force. 'My Lizzie'? What was the goddess playing at, anyways? It had seemed, for a moment, almost as if Calypso had been about to kiss her lips rather than…

The thought is at first not unwelcome. She pushes it away, disgusted with herself this time. What was wrong with her?

She stalks back out of her cabin and out on deck, scowling at anyone who dares to look her way, except for Marie and Bill.

"Cap'n." Bill greets her. "Is..everything alright?"

"Yes, of course. Everything is fine." She replies, and it is all she can do not to snap at her father-in-law.

He is usually inclined to leave it be when Elizabeth seems in a foul mood, but this time he feels he must say something.

"The-_your_ goddess," he emphasises 'your' oddly, an indirect question, "has never daned to appear to us in such a way before. Is there something amiss?"

He is used to her softening up a bit when he expresses his concerns. This time, though, her eyes narrow dangerously. She is giving him a look that sends shivers down his spine; he has seen a similar one on the face of a man with tentacles on too many occasions to count.

"That," she snaps, "is none of your business. Where are we headed next?"

He sitiffens.

"Aye, Cap'n Turner." He replies, hurt and trying not to show it. "There's a wreck just outside of…"

_**Wow, kind of a long chapter. The next one will be only Will and Emily. I just like to keep chapters short-ish. I'll try to update soon.**_

_**Thanks for the reviews I've gotten. Always love to get more. (:**_


	9. Rum and the Morning After

_**I've skipped ahead some again; I needed Emily to be just a little bit older for what happens in this chapter. Just so no one gets confused.**_

* * *

><p>Will and Jade make there way on unsteady feet towards his shop. They have just come back from the only tavern in town, where they have both spent another night drinking and dancing. She giggles when she trips over her dress and nearly falls over; he somehow manages to catch her before she can with an arm around her tiny waist.<p>

"Careful, Jade." His words hold a slight slur. "Don't want to get hurt."

She giggles again as they reach his shop.

"Oh, I've no need to worry about that, have I?" She replies dramaticly, her own words much more slurred than his. "Not when I have my wonderful hero to save me!"

He leads her into his small cabin without thinking, closing the door behind her so as to keep out the cool night air.

"Your hero? How grand you make things sound." He laughs as he plops himself down into a chair.

"Only because every moment with you _is _grand!" She exclaims a bit loudly, and Will frowns, only just now remembering his daughter sleeping in the other room.

"Hush. You'll wake Emily."

She whispers a 'terribly sorry' before clapping a hand over her mouth. Before he knows it she is stumbling towards him, and when she trips over her dress again, he has no choice but to let her fall into his lap.

His breath hitches in his throat as his body responds to her closeness. She has a strange look in her eyes now.

"Jade…I think maybe…"

She leans in closer.

"Maybe what, my darling?"

"Y-you should leave because…E-Emily is sleeping and…and w-we've had too much…" He is silenced when her lips covers his in a kiss. At first she is shy, but soon her hands come up to his head, bringing him closer and deepening the kiss. His head is swimming in rum and he is desperate for love. Any reason he might have seen is now lost on him, and his hands grasp her shoulders, then travel gently down the soft skin of her arms, and he trails kisses down her neck and lower over an ample chest as she moans softly…

"Papa?" A tiny, sleepy voice calls out to him.

He pulls away from Jade, breathing heavily.

"Papa, what are you doing?" The voice is louder this time, more urgent. "What is _she _doing here?"

He closes his eyes, takes a deep breath, tries to force his thoughts into some semblance of order.

"She's, uh, she's just leaving." He finally replies. He tries to gently push Jade off his lap, but she refuses to move. He frowns and picks her up by the waist, setting her on her feet beside him. "I'll walk you home."

Emily has her arms crossed the way she always does when she's mad, and the expression on her face reminds him of Elizabeth. She's glaring a Jade.

Jade glares back as Will leads her out of the cabin.

* * *

><p>Emily watches her papa lead Miss Jade out and crawls into the chair he was sitting in, hugging her knees to her chest, waiting for him to return. The events of the past few moments replay over in her mind and she feels like crying because she knows that her papa is beginning to forget all about her mother.<p>

She still isn't sure what her papa and Miss Jade were doing, but she is seven and a half now and is smart enough to know when her papa's been drinking. This is not the first time her papa has gone out and come back drunk, and although he is never mean or hurtful to her, not even when he is like this, she hates it all the same.

It feels like hours pass before her papa returns, though it couldn't have been more than a few minutes. He comes in and leans against the door for a moment, then looks over to her. She glares at him, her chin resting on her knees.

"Please, don't." He says quietly.

"I hate her!" She blurts out, and she knows he will probably be angry with her for saying it, but she doesn't care.

"Emily…"

"She always comes in here and acts like she's my mother! And you forget about everything when you're with her!"

"Emily, that's enou…"

"You even forget about mother, don't you Papa?" She is yelling by now, tears streaming down her face, throwing a full on temper tantrum.

"Emily!" He yells right back. "That is enough! You're too bloody young to even know what you're talking about!"

She freezes. Her papa never yells at her. Never. He never swears either.

All is silent for a moment. All traces of anger quickly fade from her papa's eyes; he pushes off the door and walks over to her as if ready to pick her up the way he still does from time to time even as she is getting far to get too big for it.

"Come, now, Emily. Lets just get you back to bed."

The way he sways on his feet and the rum that she can smell on him, as well as the way his words are slurred, is enough to make her back away. He looks shocked. She sniffles and wipes her eyes before brushing past him running back to her bed. She makes sure to look like she's sleeping when she hears him stumble in to his own bed some time later.

She does fall asleep again for a short while, but wakes far earlier than she normally does on her own. Her papa is, of course, still sound asleep. She gets up quietly and kneels before her bed, reaching underneath it to pull out a small box which holds a small pair of trousers and a shirt. She takes the items and slips out the door and into the kitchen, where she quickly discards her dress and puts on her much more comfortable outfit.

Her papa might have a fit if he finds she's been out wearing pants again, and so will Miss Jade, but she is confident they won't find out. None of the other people in town seem to mind, for some odd reason. She walks out the door and into the cool morning air. The sun has just barely begun to rise.

She heads down to the docks before she goes anywhere else. Anyone around at this early hour is used to seeing little Emily around, and doesn't bother her, because they either do not care, or don't think she is any of their business. She knows they will not tell her papa where she's been; they never do. She makes her way down to the beach, and then looks up and down the coast to make sure that no one else is around. Satisfied that she is alone, she pulls off her shoes and wades into the chilly water.

She wishes her papa would've taken her Uncle Jack's offer to stay on the _Black Pearl_ the last time they went out to see her mother. Emily worries that something went wrong; her mother's temper seemed to have shortened, and she had not at all seemed herself. The same had been true for the two times they had seen her before that as well.

Emily stays on the beach, walking along the shore with her feet still in the water for some time, before deciding it is time to get going. She puts her shoes back on and trudges back up and into the town, which is now teeming with the usual hustle and bustle of everyday life.

She is headed for the bakery, and slips a hand into her pocket to make sure the money she had taken from her papa before leaving the house is still there before entering the shop. She pays extra for the freshest loaf available, because she does not care if she uses just a bit of the extra money her papa was likely to spend on more rum (or who knew what else).

She then heads into the general store, which is not too far from her papa's shop, and is pleasantly greeted by the elderly woman named Mrs. O'Malley who works there. Emily buys a small bag of oats to make for a breakfast.

"I don't suppose you have anythin' to put on that bread, there, do you?" The Mrs. O'Malley askes in her thick Irish brogue, eyeing said bread where it rests in Emily's arms.

Emily shakes her head. The woman smiles and turns to the shelves behind her, taking down a jar of strawberry jam.

Emily's eyes widen.

"But I don't have the money, Miss." She says.

"Well, you can consider it a gift, then. Or, better yet, have your father come down here and talk to me when he decides to grace the world with his presence." And she is giving Emily a knowing look now. "And I'll gladly forget the money."

Emily takes the jam and nods, giving her a somewhat nervous smile.

"I..suppose..I can do that. Thank you very much, Miss."

Mrs. O'Malley nods and Emily leaves and heads back home.

This is where the real work begins. Now she has to start a fire so she can make oat meal out of the oats. She peeks inside the bedroom, but sees no sign that her papa has even moved, and so decides that there is no need to scramble back into her dress just yet.

She walks out the back exit of the cabin and over to the small supply of wood that her papa is always sure to keep there. It takes her several trips, but she manages to carry in just enough wood to start a proper fire, both in the oven in the kitchen and in the area where her papa works. She hopes this will brighten his mood a little when he wakes, as he is sure to be feeling ill from the night before.

She is getting nervous by now that her papa will wake soon, so she slips back into her more proper dress and quietly hides her pants and shirt back beneath her bed. Then she slips back out of the bedroom and begins preparing their breakfast.

She is trying to break the bread into pieces (she doesn't want to go searching for her papas knife, and wouldn't dare to use it anyways) when she finally hears a noise coming from the bedroom. She looks up and jumps a little when she sees her papa standing in the door way, looking around, startled in the same way he always is when she completes such grown up tasks.

"Good morning, Papa." She says, looking down instead of at him.

"Emily…did you do all this?"

She looks up at him now, smiling a little.

"Right, of course you did. Why should I be surprised…" He trailed off and came closer to her, but paused when he reached the stream of sunlight coming from the kitchens only window, wincing.

Emily turned back around and began trying to break the bread again. A few moments passed before her papa came up beside her, his knife now in hand.

"Here, let me."

She left him to it, turning back to take the jar of jam the kind old woman at the store had gifted her with. She set it on the table just as her father turned to see what she was doing.

"Where did you get that?"

"Mrs. O'Malley gave it to me as a gift."

"A gift?"

"She said…"

"What?

"She wanted me to tell you to come down and see her, and she wouldn't worry about the money."

Her papa scowls, but says nothing. He doesn't eat much, but actually does go down to see Mrs. O' Malley.

He comes back seeming somehow twice as unhappy as she's ever seen him and muttering something about 'nosy old women'. Emily is sure he purposely avoids her for the rest of the day. She decides not to ask questions.

She also decides that any rum they might have in the cabin will be poured into the sea down by the docks the next time she gets the chance. Or, maybe next time she'll use the rum to make a fire. Perhaps then it wouldn't take as much wood.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Weird place to stop it, I think, but I wanted to show how Emily thinks and works through things. Hope no one hates me too much for making Will the bad guy here, LOL.<strong>_

_**Thanks for the reviews. AngieRosie: I've wondered the same thing too, actually. It kind of bothered me that they never explained that. (:**_


	10. The Goddess and the Pirate King

**_WARNING: Implied femslash. Only implied, but I know some don't like it so much..._**

* * *

><p>William Turner has never felt more guilty in his life. Even considering all the not-so-respectable things he's done since choosing to call himself a pirate, nothing has made him feel even half as horrible as he does now.<p>

Emily is gone. And he is sure it is entirely fault.

Jade was trying to convince him otherwise, and Jack has tried to do the same several times since he's come on board the _Black Pearl_. It all happened so fast. They'd come in the middle of the night. No one could've known the sleepy little port they lived in was about to be attacked, much less attacked by Company ships. That's why he'd been keeping them on land, because he'd thought they'd be safe there.

But none of those excuses accounted for the fact that his almost eight year old daughter had run off because she'd been angry with him-again. Not to mention the fact that she was angry with him because he and Jade…

No. He wouldn't think like that. Emily didn't understand, that was all. She was too young. And it wasn't as though anyone had to know, wasn't as though Elizabeth had to know.

That's where they are headed now, to find Elizabeth. The thinking is that they find a ship that's not well armed and do what pirates do best, and the _Dutchman_ will have to come to pick up the dead.

He has to admit that the idea of seeing some action is appealing, even under the circumstances. He hasn't had to use his sword in what feels like too long. And he _does_ want to see his Elizabeth, to spite what Emily seemed to think…

He remembers how Elizabeth had grown strangely cold, how she had seemed so ready to be angry at someone for something, even the smallest things over their last visits. She had even pulled out her pistol and shot a new member of Jack's crew when last he'd seen her. Not that he hadn't seen her like that before; it was more that the man had hardly done a thing to deserve it. Something seemed to have her vexed. He hopes it has nothing to do with him, but fears that it does.

Either way, he hopes someone will be willing to have mercy on the men who took Emily. With this new, cold and short tempered and rather frightening Captain Turner controlling the _Flying Dutchman_, he has a feeling they won't see any kind of peace for a long time to come.

* * *

><p>Elizabeth wakes with a start, sitting bolt upright in her bed. She has broken out in a cold sweat, soaking her clothes and the bed itself, and she knows her heart would be pounding were it still in her chest. She's had the same dream every night for the past two weeks, and everytime she wishes more that it was really just a dream.<p>

But she knows better. After all, it's always the same. She lies with Will as his wife and he is gentle and sweet, though passionate, the way he was when they first were together. Then things change and he is sloppier and a little rougher and his breath reeks of rum, and suddenly she is no longer in bed with him, but watching him as he lays with Jade. The realness of the dream has her goddesses touch, she is sure of it. Her husband has finally done it.

She is damned forever.

The sadness is overwhelming. Elizabeth does not know what to do. She finds herself wishing desperately for her goddesses comfort, but Calypso's presence is absent for reasons unknown.

A tear slides down her cheek, and then comes the anger, washing over her in burning waves. She is furious, first with Will for being unfaithful, then with her goddess for apparently abandoning her.

In the end she is mad at only herself, though, for being so week as to cry over it all. Why should she have expected any different, from Will or her goddess?

Elizabeth stalks out of her cabin and up on deck, hoping that the cool night air will calm her down some. Not many others are around when she appears, the pail moonlight illuminating her slender figure. She walks slowly across the deck, sliding her hand aross the rail, pausing when she gets close to the crews quarters, turning to lean forward on the rail and stare down at the calm waters below her.

She isn't quite sure whether she's hearing things when the whispers first reach her ears.

Elizabeth turns towards the crew's quarters. The short hallway leading to them is dark, just as she would expect. But there is another small room off that hallway, and this one has a door, and that door is cracked open. The flickering light of a candle spills out into the hallway from within it.

She can hear the hushed voices much more clearly now. One of them can only belong to a woman. Marie.

But who on earth is the girl with? Elizabeth had given her separate quarters, a room just next to her captain's cabin. She trusts her men, but still, they _are_ men, and Marie is a very pretty young girl.

Elizabeth moves in closer, her curiousity getting the best of her, and listens to what Marie is saying.

"_I'm worried about what the Captain will say. She has not been herself as of late… I know you've noticed it too, Jaimee, we all have."_

"_Aye, I have, but what are ye so worried about? What's there to object to?" _A male voice, Jaimee, replyed.

"_I can think of many things."_

"_Just tell 'er." _His voice softens._ "Tell 'er that we're in love."_

Silence reigns for a long moment. Elizabeth stares forward and tries to push away the foreign, unnamed feeling that washes over her, a feeling so very different from the anger she is used to feeling, and yet not so different at all.

"_Jaimee." _Marie hisses, but she does not really sound upset. _"We can't! What if…what if I were to…"_

"_Find yerself with a little one? Is that possible for..you know.. us?"_

"_Captain Turner did, didn't she? I've heard talk…"_

"_That were before I came aboard too, but it wouldn't be a surprise. Maybe 'erself will be more understandin than ye think."_

"_Tomorrow. We'll go to the Captain together."_

There is another pause, and Elizabeth barely hears it when Jaimee speaks again, but there can be no mistaking the words that come out of his mouth.

"_I love you."_

The conversation reminds her of a similar one she and Will once had.

The strange feeling is like fire in Elizabeth's veins, and she suddenly wants nothing more than to make them both pay for daring to grasp onto what she can no longer have.

"Lizzie…"

Elizabeth freezes, startled, her hand halfway to opening the door.

"Come now, my Lizzie. Cruelty don' become ye."

Her goddess's presence rushes back full force, Calypso's voice echoing off the walls around her.

"Come to me now an' I will show you why ye have no reason ta be jealous."

Elizabeth closes her eyes for a moment, takes a breath, then lets her hand fall back to her side as she spins around and silently heads back to her cabin.

She falls into sleep quickly, lulled to it by her goddesses sweet voice. Before she knows it she is on that beautiful beach again. She feels nothing here but a strange mixture of joy and sadness; joy for being with her goddess again, and sadness for losing Will.

Crying while on the _Dutchman_ was never an option. There were already plenty of men who hated to serve under a woman, much less an emotional one.

Here, there are no such restraints.

Elizabeth collapses into the sand without hesitation, allowing the tears to fall freely as she hugs her knees to her chest. Her goddess allows her time to greive; she is not sure how long it has been since she arrived here. Time does not seem to work the same way when she is in her goddess's paradise.

Finally, afer what seems a life time, no more tears come. The sun is hot above her; she finds herself wishing it was nighttime and she had the beautiful moon to look up at.

Just like that, clouds roll into the sky, dispersing moments later to reveal a beautiful starry night. Elizabeth's eyes widen as she stares up in wonder. When she looks back down there is a small fire burning just a short ways away, popping and crackling. She'd only just barely begun to think how wonderful a fire would be before it appeared.

"My Lizzie."

Elizabeth turns and springs to her feet at the sight of her goddess standing before her. She doesn't even think to give Calypso the bow she usually does as she stares in shock at her goddess, who is dressed not in the old dress that Elizabeth is accustomed to always seeing her in, but in a dress of fine silk, beautifully embroidered.

It looks like something Elizabeth might've worn as the governor's daughter, though she can't help but to think that her goddess looks so much more beautiful in it.

Why any of this catches her attention the way that it does, she has not a clue.

Her goddess comes forward, smiling kindly, and brushes a strand of hair back behind Elizabeth's ear.

"M-my goddess." She stutters. Calypso leans in closer, and Elizabeth is struck, not for the first time, with urge to kiss her goddess's full lips.

She tries to hold it back. It is wrong, it must be…

"Come, my Lizzie. I am here for you. You may call me by my name."

_I am here for you._ The words echo in Elizabeth's ears until all that matters is the beautiful woman standing before her. She leans in, finally giving in to her desires, and is not shy in the least about kissing her goddess.

"Calypso." She breathes the name against her goddess's lips. Calypso smiles at her and then sits in the sand, laying back slowly and looking up at Elizabeth expectantly. Elizabeth is surprised, but accepts her goddess clear offer without hesitation.

That night, as she lies in her new lovers arms, William Turner is the farthest person from her mind. And when she wakes the next morning, she feels no regrets.

No regrets whatsoever.


	11. Its Captain SWAN

"Captain?" Bill Turner's voice just barely carries above the music in the cavernous organ room where Elizabeth has taken to spending time alone. "We're coming up on a wreck…"

She continues to play, though not as vigorously, the sound dying down a little.

"Brings us in closer and begin bringing them aboard." She doesn't even glance at him.

"But Cap'n," he hesitates, knowing she'll not be happy to hear what he has to tell her next, "the _Pearl_'s just come up on us…"

She stops playing rather abruptly and turns to him.

"Is Will with them?"

"I don't know, but the ship they took on was large and well armed, and they've taken some damage, which would lead one to believe they were trying to get our attention. Trying to get _your_ attention, Elizabeth."

She says nothing, looking uncertain of what to do.

"I know you believe Will's betrayed you." Bill goes on quietly. She turns her now harsh gaze on him sharply. This gives him pause, but he continues. "But they wouldn't go through this much trouble to get to you for no reason. I think you'd best come up on deck."

Elizabeth glares at him for a minute longer, hoping he'll back off. But Bill doesn't back off, and her façade quickly falls, and she is hurrying past him now and out of the large room, in a hurry at least to see her daughter, though she has no desire to see Will.

Well, she thinks, she doesn't want to see him unless maybe he has that whore Jade with him. Not for the first time it crosses her mind just how satisfying it would be to put a blade through _her _heart and see what he'd do then.

She no longer stops to think how cruel she sounds, even to herself.

She comes up on deck and wills herself onto the other ship as soon as she sees it, having no patience to wait and find a normal way onto the _Pearl._ Both Jack and Will are at the helm and look startled when she appears out of thin air behind them.

"Elizabeth!" Will exclaims, moving forward and wrapping his arms around her in a warm embrace, as he always does upon seeing her.

This time, though, she doesn't return his affections, standing stiffly in his arms until he lets her go and looks at her with a bewildered expression.

"E-Elizabeth? What's wrong?"

She doesn't reply immediately, and when she does she ignores his question, asking one of her own.

"Where's Emily?"

Will and Jack exchange a look. Elizabeth narrows her eyes at Will.

"Will. Where is my daughter?"

"She's –"

"You didn't leave her on _land_ this time did you? If you _left_ my daughter with that _wench_, Will…"

"What? No! No, I didn't… I mean, I would never… wench?" He stumbles over his words, squeaking out the last one, sounding pathetic and very un-Will-like. She raises her eyebrows at him. What could be making him this nervous?

"I wish I could tell ye he was lying and the lass is back home." Jack cuts in. "But I'm afraid that what's actually happened is much more worse…"

Elizabeth turns on him, thoroughly annoyed now.

"Will one of you just come out with it? I don't have all day." She gestures towards what's left of the ship the _Pearl_ had cut down.

Will and Jack both stiffen, and glance at eachother again before the words come tumbling out of both their mouths at the same time.

"Emily was taken by the Company."

"The lass was captured by the Company."

She stares at them for a moment as the words take a moment to sink in fully.

"_What?"_

* * *

><p>"I don't understand, why would they even bother with that port, I thought you said there <em>weren't<em> a lot of pirates there."

"There aren't any pirates there at all, that's why I chose to stay there. Unless they found out about Emily and I somehow…" Will watched his wife as she paced about his cabin. "I don't know."

"How would they have found out about you, anyways?"

"I just told you, I don't _know_."

"And where were you when she was taken, anyways?" She turns to him now, jabbing a finger at him. "Did you even try to save her? Did you see her captor's ship? You act as though you weren't even there!"

"Well, see, the thing is Emily was down by the docks when she was taken."

"What?"

"We'd had a…sort of…fight and she ran off down to the docks like she always does when she's upset. I think the water calms her. She always came back and was fine, I had no reason to believe this time was any different, you must understand Elizabeth." He pleads with her, hoping she'll stop directing her cold and angry looks at him. "No one noticed anything off about the ship sailing into the harbor until the men came marching off with rifles. I just barely managed to escape them; I went looking for Emily as soon as I could, only to be told by several other sailors that she'd been dragged off, captured."

She is silent for a long while.

"Alright." She says at length. "I'm sorry. Perhaps it wasn't entirely fair of me to blame it on you. What was the fight about?"

Will hesitates, unsure of what to tell her.

"Well? It wouldn't happen to have anything to do with that we-I mean Jade, would it?"

He narrows his eyes at her, as she'd obviously been about to say 'wench'. What is with her? First she refuses to return his embrace or show him any affection at all, then she automatically jumps to the conclusion that Emily's capture is his fault, and to top all that off, she's branded a woman she barely knows a 'wench'.

He doesn't like this Elizabeth. He doesn't like her at all. He suddenly isn't quite so worried about telling her the truth, even if she won't like it.

"Jade had been over the night before Emily was taken. Emily doesn't like Jade at all, says Jade tries too hard to act like she's her mother. She was angry with me for bringing Jade around so much, and I got upset with her for being so rude because Jade's been very helpful to me in taking care of Emily. That's why she ran off."

Elizabeth seemed frozen in place, staring at him in shock.

"What? Elizabeth, what is it?"

"H-how long ago was this?"

"Close to a month ago. I know that seems a long time, but I had to find Jack and the _Pearl, _which thankfully did not take half as long as it could have, and then getting all the way out here and… I hope that she is alright – Elizabeth?"

He stops as she slumps down onto his bed, her face pail as she mutters to herself.

"About a month ago…that's when the dreams started…if he had that wench over that night…and then Emily saw them…"

"Elizabeth! What are you muttering about?"

Her fists clench in her lap and she looks up at him, a fire blazing in her usually loving eyes.

"When were you planning to tell me?"

"W-what? I don't underst-"

"When were you planning to tell me that you shared a bed with that-that-that _whore_ that's apparently been taking care of _my_ daughter?"

Now his skin pails. He tries to stay calm.

"I don't know what you're-"

"What, don't you remember? Or were you too drunk?"

The room suddenly feels far too hot. Will opens his mouth to speak, but it has turned impossibly dry, and no sound comes out.

"My goddess was giving me these dreams. I saw you. A part of me still didn't want to believe it. But now it all makes perfect sense. You got drunk and laid with _her_ and Emily caught you. That's why she was angry. That's why she ran off."

"Elizabeth, please, i-it was a mistake…"

"Yes, it was, the biggest mistake you've ever made. I hoped you'd prove my goddess wrong, I wanted this to all be over. How interesting that she's the only one I can trust now. "

"Elizabeth, please…"

"Captain." She snaps.

"What?"

"It's Captain _Swann_."

"Come now, please, don't say that, I still love…"

The word 'love' barely leaves his mouth before she is pointing a pistol at his head. Will freezes, eyes wide.

"Shut it! I don't care anymore. Do you know what the name of the ship was?"

"Ship? Can't we at least talk about…"

She cocks the pistol.

"The name of the Company ship that sailed off with Emily, do you know it?"

"The _Revenge_! It was called the _Revenge_! B-but that's hardly the only Company ship sailing these waters, they are many more, growing bolder again. We don't know where the _Revenge _is headed! That's why we came to find you! Please, Elizabeth, put the pistol away!"

Her hand twitches, as if she really does want to pull the trigger, but she eventually lowers it, letting out a breath.

"How can I help? I'm bound to the ship; I have to do the job. I don't want to upset my goddess."

"We need the pirate King if we are to scare the Company back into hiding away or we'll all be killed. And you have the _Dutchman_, you'd be well nigh unstoppable. And this ship, the _Revenge_… it's the biggest ship I have ever seen, it must be there new flagship. You have to help because I fear we may not be able to get her back on our own. Besides, the way you're beginning to talk about _your_ goddess, one would think she has some sort of soft spot for you."

"If she does it is hardly any of your business. It's been a month. Would Emily still be on that ship?"

"It's the best we've got to work with."

She turns and leaves his cabin without another word.


	12. Drink Up

Bill Turner doesn't have to see his Captain to know that she's back on the _Flying Dutchman_. The ship creaks and groans, the sails seem to wilt and become more discolored. He feels the same sense of foreboding he had once felt at the approach of Davy Jones.

He glances towards Marie, who is at the helm this time, and then surveys the other crewmen. They have stopped what they are doing to look up and around, then send questioning glances his way. If anyone knows what's going on, it is usually Bill Turner; none of them is closer to Elizabeth than he is.

He only shakes his head in response; this time even he has no clue.

Elizabeth is making her way across the deck now. The crew, including poor Marie, make the mistake of staring at her as she does so.

"What are you looking at?" She snaps. "Step to, the lot of you! Prepare for a dive! You three, go down and look through the hold, we'll be making good use of the guns soon and I have a feeling we haven't got much to load them with."

The three sailors in question eache mutter and 'Aye Cap'n Turner' before heading off to do as Elizabeth has asked.

"Captain Swan!" She corrects, loud enough for all to hear. "Three lashes to anyone who dares to call me Turner again!" She continues on her way across the deck, passing Bill on her way.

"Cap'n," he says, turning to follow her, "We haven't finished taking on the poor souls from the wrecked ship and…"

"I'm afraid we have other things to worry about now." She says, and she sounds angry, distracted, and doesn't seem to really care about what she _should_ be doing.

"But Captain we can't just…"

"Unless they are alive and could possibly become crew don't bother."

They are entering her cabin now, though she doesn't seem as though she had a reason for coming here, and he shuts the door.

"Elizabeth. Please. _Listen_." He says, his voice laced with worry.

She finally looks to him, and the look in her eyes only serves to unnerve him even further, but he keeps going because he knows she needs to hear what he has to say.

"I know you have somehow won the goddess's favor, but that does not mean she won't allow the full effects of the curse to come down on you, on all of us. We _must_ continue to do the job."

She is quiet for a moment, and the anger seems to fade from her eyes a little, slowly being replaced by sadness.

"Emily has been taken. By the Company. I have to find her. I _have_ to."

"Ah. I see. I'm assuming this is somehow my sons fault, seeing as you have just declared yourself to once again be a Swan and not a Turner."

"That has nothing to do with Emily's disppearance." Now she is just angry again. "The William Turner I know is gone; all that's left is another rum-soaked and unfaithful pirate." She takes the ring Will gave her off of her finger and stares down at it.

Bill begins to feel angry himself, which is unusual, and thinks he will have to have a talk with his son before they sail off.

"You know I will do whatever you say, Elizabeth. If Emily is in trouble then we will try to get her back. But if I notice anything off, even the slightest thing…"

"Tell me and I will do my best to keep an open mind. Let me know if there are any left alive from the wreck." She replies, in effect telling him to get out of her cabin.

He mumbles an 'Aye Cap'n' in response as he leaves.

* * *

><p>William Turner takes another swig from his rum and stares down at the more-than-half-empty bottle with dull eyes. He wonders at how he used to side with Elizabeth on how vile the drink could be; now he's almost as fond of it as Jack. <em>Almost<em>.

It is night time; the _Dutchman_ has been sailing alongside the _Pearl _for a while now, and he wonders just what Elizabeth is doing. Why would she be heading towards Tortuga with them? Perhaps she needed supplies; it wasn't as though the _Dutchman_ was used to doing battle anymore.

He isn't startled when his father quietly enters his cabin without knocking. He'd been expecting a visit like this ever since he realized the _Dutchman_ was staying around.

Will has no wish to talk to anyone. All remains silent for a moment or two.

"She's decided we're to go after Emily."

"I figured as much." Will says, and his speech is slurred and slow.

"I don't know how long she can ignore her duties before the Curse begins to really take hold."

"Perhaps _her_ goddess will be kind enough to hold it back."

"Perhaps you should attempt to make a true apology because she is thinking more like Jones' with each day that passes, William."

"Tried already. She wouldn't listen. And my Elizabeth would never allow herself to become that."

"She's no longer yours. She threatened the crew with three lashes if they should 'dare to call her Turner again'."

Will only takes another long swig from his bottle of rum.

"Is that you're answer then, boy?" Bill gestures towards the bottle.

"Seems answer enough for me. Nothing I say to her or do for her will be good enough anymore."

Bill only stares at his son. He sees so much of himself in Will in that moment that it is frightening. A part of him is getting angry with the younger mans apathy.

"Did you know she could've been free?"

Will looks up to meet his eyes now.

"What?"

"If you'd remained faithful, as she truly believes you haven't, she could've been free when her ten years were up."

"No! She-she never told me that!"

"She shouldn't've had to." Bill retorts.

The following silence is deafening.

"Perhaps I should talk to her again." Will stands, or attempts to; the rum throws him off balance and he stumbles, clutching the wall for a moment before attempting to walk towards the door.

Bill sighs.

"Don't bother."

"B-but I…"

"You're drunk, son, and the Captain is sleeping. She wouldn't want to talk to you normally, much less now."

Will stops half way to the door and just stands there, unsure of what to do, swaying heavily on his feet.

Bill steps forward and takes his sons hand, pressing something small and round into it.

"I'm sorry." He says as Will glances down at the object in his hand. When Will looks back up, his father is gone.

He looks back down, staring at the small object for a moment as a potent mixture of sadness and anger and guilt settles in his gut.

He drops the wedding ring he had made and given to Elizabeth onto a table and stumbles back over to his bed. He snatches up the rum bottle and brings it to his lips, tipping it back, and drinks and drinks…

* * *

><p><em><strong>I know it's been a little while this time, but I've written two chapters in that time, so I hope that makes up for it. :)<strong>_

_**Thanks a bunch for the reveiws!**_


	13. Of Strange Dreams and Horrible Hangovers

_Will drops the wedding ring he had made and given to Elizabeth onto a table and stumbles back over to his bed. He snatches up the rum bottle and brings it to his lips, tipping it back, and drinks and drinks…_

_~Meanwhile~_

Elizabeth lays in her bed, staring up at the ceiling of her cabin, wishing that she could just fall asleep. She tries to calm herself, but every time she closes her eyes she sees Will kissing Jade, or the face of her daughter. She feels so alone it hurts.

She wonders where the rage she'd felt earlier has gone. Now it has dulled and she just feels weary and hurt. She's beginning to wish she really had died when Davy Jones stabbed her…

And she stops that thought in its tracks. If she had truly died, then Emily would never have been born. In that, at least, she can take some comfort.

Well, at least she can normally. Now she does not even know where her daughter is or if she is alright. She wonders whether she really has a right to blame Will for Emily's capture. As big an idiot as he was being, she couldn't bring herself to believe that he would ever wish harm on or be careless with their daughter.

Or maybe he would. Elizabeth really doesn't know anymore. She's so very tired. She just wants to sleep.

Just…wants…to…sleep…

_The rooms seems to tilt oddly, the edges of her vision are fuzzy. She is staring down at something…_

_Things become a bit more focused, though the room still seems to be moving. It's a rum bottle she's staring down at. She feels odd. Her head is swimming, but to her the feeling is not unpleasant and oddly welcome._

_The bottle is more than half empty. Did she drink all that? Apparently she did. That would explain a lot._

_Elizabeth glances up lazily as the door to the room she's in –her cabin –opens and Bill Turner walks in._

_All is silent for a moment. _

"_She's decided to go after Emily."_

_Elizabeth isn't sure what he's talking about._

"_I figured as much." She says, but that voice...it's not hers. Will. His speech is slurred and slow._

_She realizes that she's seeing things from his veiw. But why? How?_

_She can feel what he feels too. It's so strange._

"…_she is thinking more like Jones' with each day that passes, William." Bill is saying. Are they talking about her? Elizabeth can tell what Will is feeling. A wave of fear takes hold of him at Bills statement. It's dulled by the rum, but it is still there._

_He's afraid of her._

_He tells Bill he doesn't think she'll listen._

"…_my Elizabeth would never allow herself to become that."_

"_She's no longer yours. She threatened the crew with three lashes if they 'dared to call her Turner again'."_

_Elizabeth wonders at just how eager she had been to make good on that threat too._

_Will takes another long swig from his bottle of rum and she swears the effects are immediate. How can he possibly be enjoying this? But she can feel that he is at the same time she feels disgust at it. _

Takes the edge off the pain, probably…_ A little voice in her head tells her._

"_Is that your answer then, boy?" Bill asks, motioning towards the bottle in her – Will's – hand. _

_Will feels guilty, so guilty. He doesn't know what to do._

"_Seems answer enough for me. Nothing I say or do will be good enough for her anymore."_

_Elizabeth catches a glimpse of what he's thinking. He's picturing her in the dress she wore the day they first kissed. He's thinking about how he risked becoming a criminal there and then and she seemed to have loved him for was perfect._

_He's wondering what went wrong and when._

_Bill looks angry._

"_Did you know she could've been free?"_

_Will meets his father's eyes now. He's shocked._

"_What?"_

"_If you'd remained faithful, as she truly believes you haven't…" _

_Will can't seem to decide what he feels now. He's wishing she'd told him; wondering why she hadn't._

"_No! She-she never told me that!"_

"_She shouldn't've had to." Bill snaps back._

_All is silent. Will feels hurt that she didn't tell him and angry with himself because he knows his father is right. It shouldn't have mattered._

_He should've been faithful anyways._

"_Perhaps I should talk to her again." He stands…and the room seems to turn itself upside down. He stumbles, clutches a wall, tries to move forward. Elizabeth feels sick to her own belly on top of the feelings she's still getting from Will._

_She promises herself she'll never go near any spirits again. _

"_You're drunk, son," Bill tells him bluntly, "and the Captain is sleeping…"_

_Will is half way to the door; he stops and stands there, swaying dangerously on his feet. The strange movements make her think of Jack for some strange reason._

_Bill steps forward and presses something into his son's hand._

_It's the wedding ring she'd told him to give back to Will._

_Bill makes a sudden and quiet escape._

_Will stares down at it as a terrible mixture of greif and guilt and anger settles in his gut. He's thinking its hopeless now._

_He thinks she hates him._

_There are times when she thinks she does, too._

_He drops the ring on a table, stumbles over to the bed. She wills him not to grab the bottle again, hates to see him do this to himself, but it has no effect. She feels both sorry for him and angry that this is the only solution he can seem to think of._

_What happened to the Will that was willing to fight for her to the death? She tries to say something, to tell him to get up and go see her to spite what his father said. He's a pirate. Since when do pirates do as their told, and by there parents no less? _

_He can't hear her._

_He brings the bottle to his lips and drinks and drinks…_

Darkness takes over for a few moments.

She can feel the sand beneath her feet. Hear the tide coming in. She can see and think clearly; she is just Elizabeth again.

Her goddess's paradise brings her little comfort this time. She still feels the odd mixture of anger and sadness.

She stands there for a moment, bathed in the warm sunshine, staring ahead blankly and trying to get her thoughts in order.

Calypso appears behind her and leans in close, whispering into Elizabeth's ear.

"It is always bettah to know both sides of de story, my Lizzie."

Elizabeth closes her eyes, takes a breath, opens them back up and turns to her goddess.

"I suppose…it is. But that doesn't excuse the fact that he…"

"This I know."

"I have to talk to him."

"Tomorrow. 'im in no condition for talking now."

"Then I should go talk to Jack. See when things started changing. I want to know just when Will decided to crawl…into..a..bottle..." She trails off as her goddess leans in and kisses her lips.

For a while the gentle touch of her goddess is all she knows, and she is content with this. But she knows that sooner or later she will have to wake up, and she must talk to her goddess before then.

They are lying in the sand; Elizabeth has her head laid upon her goddesses chest. Her goddess is running a hand through her hair gently, soothingly.

"Calypso." Elizabeth murmurs in a gentle tone of voice she is beginning to use less and less.

"Speak yah mind, my Lizzie."

"I have to go after Emily. I wouldn't trust anyone else in getting her back, not anymore."

"I was expectin dis to happen when dey caught de girl."

Elizabeth sits up and turns away from her goddess, staring off into the incredibly blue water beyond them.

"If I stop doing the job… I know so little about the curse and how it works."

"It is my wish dat you will not have ta find out, my Lizzie."

Her goddess's arms are wrapped around her waist now. She leans back.

"It is for me ta choose whether you become like 'im who had de _Dutchman_ to begin wit'. If I do not like what I see when I look at ye, den you will be on de outside as your are in here." Calypso taps Elizabeth's chest where her heart should've been. "Ye must know dat revenge is a dangerous path to tread, though, my Lizzie. You must watch yahself carefully when going after dese men."

Elizabeth knows what her goddess says is true, but she can't seem to help the murderous thoughts that enter her mind every time she thinks of the Company. She has control of a ship that she's sure could blast even this new flagship Will spoke of out of the water.

And they can't kill her. Will still has her heart, wherever he put it. She would be nigh unstoppable.

"I know, my goddess. I wouldn't wish harm on anyone, not like that. I only want Emily back."

She gasps when the skies above them begin to darken abruptly.

"Do not tink to lie to me, Captain Swan." Her goddess's voice is angry now. Elizabeth stands and turns, bowing before her goddess.

"F-forgive me, my goddess."

The clouds roll away, slowly. Calypso tells her to stand, then moves closer to her. Elizabeth stiffens.

Her goddess looks straight into her eyes, and Elizabeth is unnerved in a way she usually isn't, not in the presence of her goddess. It's as though Calypso is staring straight through her, into her very soul.

She shivers at the realization that her goddess could very well be doing just that.

"My Lizzie. Your tirst for blood grows stronger with each day dat passes. I tink you see what is 'appening all to well. De question is, what will ye do to stop it?"

"What? Th-that's not true, I-I'm not…" She attempts to protest, but the world around her is already swirling away and before she knows it she wakes up in her cabin with sunlight streaming in through one small window.

She has a feeling it will be a while before she'll see her goddess again.

She gets out of bed and begins to get dressed. She needs to talk to Will.

* * *

><p>Will has only just made it up on deck when Elizabeth appears in front of him. His head is pounding and he thinks he might be sick.<p>

He does NOT want to talk to his tempramental wife. Or, not wife, whatever she is, he doesn't know anymore and is already getting sick of going over it in his head anyways.

His stomach churns and the thought again strikes him that he may just be sick, period.

"Will." She says simply. He knows he probably doesn't look so good, but she doesn't seem surprised by this.

"Elizabeth." He replies and skirts around her to go…anywhere as long as it is away from her.

"We need to talk."

"We did. Last night. You pointed a pistol at my head. I think that told me more than your actual words did."

"Well, I'm not here to shoot you, even if I would like to. I'm here to ask…here to ask about Emily. I want to know what's really going on here."

He turns to her now and already looks defensive.

"I've not idea what you're talking about."

"What you told me last night, about her running off, it made it seem as though she does that a lot. Like she's used to being on her own, and you're used to leaving her on her own. She's seven, Will."

"She's smart for her age, and I told you about how she always came back. I never felt the need to worry."

"You're her father. It's your _job_ to worry." Elizabeth raises her voice a little, and several members of Jack's crew glance their way.

Will pulls her into the nearest doorway with him. They are now in a small dark storage room. At least it's a little more private.

His stomach settles a little as the much dimmer light is easier on his aching head.

"Well, what about you? You said you had strange dreams about me, you knew about me and Jade. Personally I think you have some explaining to do, too."

"My goddess gave me the dreams. I'm glad she did, otherwise I would never have known what you've been up to."

"Since when is it your right to spy on me? And since when is Calypso _your_ goddess."

"Since when do you drink as much as you have been and go off flirting with other women?"

"I've told you how sorry I am…"

"Sorry's not good enough, not for this. What is it with men…"

"Well, I could tell you what _it_ is…" He steals a suggestive glance downward. They are pressed pretty close together in the little storage room.

Her eyes widen; this doesn't sound like her Will at all. She glares at him for a moment before slipping out of the storage room.

The pirates around her are smart enough not to even glance in her direction.

Will comes stumbling out behind her. Jack approaches them.

"Somethin the ma'er, Cap'n Tu…"

Her eyes narrow.

"Ah, Cap'n Swan then?"

Will staggers to the railing of the ship and she hears him retch.

"My should-be-loving-husbands a drunk, my daughters missing, I can't go ashore so I don't know what I'll do if they've taken her to land… I'd say everything is just peachy." She snarls as she pushes passed him, calling over her shoulder, her voice dripping with sarcasm. "So sorry you're not feeling well, Will."

Jack barely blinks and she is gone.

He hates it when she does that.

* * *

><p><em><strong>These chapters keep getting longer and longer. I can break them up some if you like shorter chapters, let me know.<strong>_

_**Let me know if anything was unclear with Elizabeth's dream. I'm kind of experimenting with different writing styles and I'm not sure about how this chapter turned out.**_

_**Thanks for the reviews. :) **_


	14. Bakery Giggles and Mad Mad Women

"I told you _not _to take this one to the brig!"

Emily Turner keeps her eyes closed even as she hears the hushed voices just outside the cold, dark cell she'd fallen asleep in. She's learned very quickly that it is always best to play dumb, and this time that means pretending to be asleep.

"I-I'm sorry, Captain. The A-Admiral said…"

"I know what he said." The Captain snaps. There is a short pause before he answers in a calmer tone. "I know what he said. But she can't be more than eight years old, and I refuse to leave a little girl in the brig as though she were a common pirate. Take her to the guest quarters, next to mine."

The Captain wanted his men to be nice to her? That was odd, but could be useful. She surly wouldn't complain.

"Aye, Captain."

Emily imagines the officer giving his Captain a solute. The door to the cell opens on squeaky hinges and now she opens her eyes.

She looks up at the officer and isn't quite as frightened of him as she could be. He has often been sent to guard her, and he isn't as cold as the others.

"Come along, miss. Admiral's gone now. I've got somewhere much more comfortable for you to sleep."

Emily nods and gets to her feet. He pauses for a moment.

"My shackles would slide right of your hands." He grimaced. "You don't intend to run, do you?"

She wishes she could role her eyes. Of course she wouldn't run, there was nowhere to go but overboard. They are no where near land anymore. At least, she's pretty sure they aren't. If they _were_, the story might be different …

Instead she only shakes her head innocently.

He grabs her arm anyways. Emily winces as he grips a little too hard. He frowns and loosens his grip, probably having done it on accident. She hears him mumble as he starts heading towards what she assumes is to be her new room.

"She's so bloody _small_… Should've listened to mum when she told me to be a baker like father. Lot of good it's done me being out here arresting children..."

Emily tries to hold back the very innappropriate urge to giggle at the thought of the giant, well armed officer in a bakery, but the slightest of sounds still escapes her lips. The officer stops just before they reach a set of stares, looking down at her.

She freezes and looks down, bringing her free hand up to cover her mouth.

"Think that's funny, do you?" His voice holds a trace of amusement. "It's true, you know. I can see my mum now in the shop, finding out about who I've been working for. Bet she'll throw a pastrie at my head."

A full on grin spreads across Emily's face now. She keeps it covered with her hand but giggles just a bit louder.

"And to top it off the six year old I'm guarding thinks me to be funny. Oh, I don't know how I shall ever recover." He sighs dramatically.

"I-I'm seven." She corrects him, quietly but boldly. "Almost eight."

"Ah, I see. Well, that makes it a bit better I suppose." He straightens up as they hear footsteps coming down the hall. The laughter in his eyes disappears, and she follows his lead, turning her head downwards and trailing a little behind him as he leads her up the stairs.

* * *

><p>Elizabeth is beginning to lose it, and she knows it too.<p>

She is no closer to finding her daughter, and this worries her to no end. Bill has told her that no one he'd talked to while they were in Tortuga had heard or seen anything about the Company or a massive ship called the _Revenge_.

At least, no one that was willing to tell him about it. She'd been sorely tempted to tell him to bring any that he thought _might _know something to her, but her goddess's warnings continued to wiggle their way into her mind, and so she refrained.

Her goddess. Elizabeth can sense her presence quite easily now, but has not _seen_ her in a good two weeks. She continues to get odd dreams now, showing her that her daughter is safe for the most part. This was soothing enough for the first few nights, but now it just makes her all the more restless. The only useful thing the dreams told her is that they are under the command of a man referred to only as the Admiral.

And then there is Will. She cannot seem to make him leave her thoughts, no matter how hard she tries. When she is not dreaming of her daughter, she is dreaming of her goddess…or Will, her Will, the respectable man she had married, not the no good pirate he'd turned into. Well, no good in her veiw anyways.

She hardly sleeps at all anymore, instead staying up and pacing the deck or playing that massive organ.

Bill comments on her strange behaviors once, and only once.

"_Davy Jones allowed love to drive him into madness. I'd hope you'd be smart enough not to do the same."_

"Captain?"

She hears Jaimee, 'Marie's Jaimee' she automatically thinks, call for her, pulling her out of her thoughts.

"What?" She replies, her tone perhaps a bit too harsh. He winces and she regrets it, but not enough to apologize as she might've just a few months earlier.

"Survivors. You were right. The wreck was a Company ship."

Her eyes widen a little. She brushes past him and makes her way quickly to where they have lined up the officers.

A few of them are shaking with fear, but all have the same determined look in there eyes. She may not get much out of them, but fear can be helpful when prying open locked lips.

She looks them all over and feels the same pity that she feels for all that are dead or dying, but things are different now and her face remains a coldly indifferent mask.

"My, you boys are good at making yourself scarce, aren't you? Almost hints at cowardice." She taunts them, but none of them even glances her way. She stops in front of the youngest of the group. He is trembling far more violently than the others. "I'm looking for a certain ship. Massive thing, hard to miss I'm told. It's been named the _Revenge._"

That gets her a reaction. His eyes move, only his eyes, but it is enough. None of the others move a muscle.

"So, you _do_ know of it. Finally. Tell me, who is her captain?"

She gets nothing this time, so she continues.

"How about the Admiral?"

His eyes twitch again. She smirks and brandishes her sword, holding it up to his neck.

"Come now. Tell me _something_ and I might spare _your_ life, at least," She hears Jaimee let out a shocked little gasp at this statement, but keeps going anyways, "tell me nothing and I'll promise nothing."

"H-he's the one running the C-Company now!" The terrified officer blurts out. The others finally move, glancing at him with looks of equal parts anger and pity. "The _Revenge_ is headed for London. That's where he is."

Elizabeth's brows furrow.

"Why?"

He doesn't immediately respond, but she has a feeling he knows more. She moves her sword forward ever so slightly so that the tip is barely touching his neck.

He hisses in surprise when the blade leaves a shallow cut in his tanned skin.

"Th-they've got some kind of special prisoner! That's all I know!"

She lowers the sword. He relaxes a little.

"Welcome aboard." She says. "You're hardly dead nor are you dying, so you can leave when we reach London."

"What of the others?" Jaimee asks her as she turns to walk away.

She knows she could allow them to stay on just as she had the youngest officer, but she has no wish to have seven other pompous officers loose on her ship. One is quite enough, thank you very much.

"There are no 'others'." She replies simply. His eyes widen as some of the more ruthless crew members move forward without hesitation to carry out her implied orders.

"Belay that!" He yells just as they draw their swords, even though he has no right to. "C-Captain Turner, you can't just…"

She freezes.

So does he, his eys wide.

Marie, who is up at the helm, lets the wheel go and comes toward them, a look of horror on her face.

"Captain, please, don't!"

Elizabeth ignores her and turns to him, her eyes narrowed dangerously.

"How many lashes did I say it was? _Three_? And daring to go against my orders, why not make it _five!_"

He remains frozen to his spot and doesn't respond.

The Bo'sun comes up and even he looks worried. Elizabeth waves him off.

"I'll do it myself."

She grips Jaimee's arm with a shocking amount of strength, dragging him toward the main mast. She rips off his shirt and has someone bring her rope, tying him to the mast.

Marie looks to be on the verge of tears.

"Captain…please…i-it was a mistake…"

Elizabeth has the whip in her hands now, a spiky, nasty looking thing.

"Captain, no…" Marie tries again. "_Please_." She grabs Elizabeth's arm.

Elizabeth rounds on her.

"Stupid girl!" She snarls, but pauses when she sees Marie sending a look over her shoulder to Jaimee, who is sending one back to her. An eerie déjà vu like feeling grips her, but she ignores it. "Oh. I see." She turns back to Marie. "How _sweet_." She spits out the words. "Scurry back to your cabin, Marie. I'll find something to do with you later."

Marie stands tall and clenches her fists at her sides, not moving an inch and glaring as harshly as she is probably capable.

"Do you _want _to see your _beloved_ Jaimee bear his punishment?"

"I WILL NOT leave him!"

Elizabeth spins around and raises the whip.

"As you wish, stupid girl." And with a crack she brings it down upon the bare skin of Jaimee's back.

He convulses and groans in pain.

"Cap'n!"

Bill's voice comes from somewhere to her left now.

She brings it down again, and watches with a perverse satisfaction as Jaimee convulses and groans louder this time.

Marie lets out a choked sob behind her.

"Captain!" Bill yells again. "You must stop this!"

Elizabeth looks up and around for a breif moment, taking in her crews shocked and terrified expressions. Bill looks twice as afraid as them all.

She raises the whip again.

"Elizabeth!" Bill calls to her again and he is closer now and beginning to sound defeated. "The curse…"

She brings the whip down again but stops abruptly just before it hits Jaimee's skin for the third time, her eyes going wide as she stares at her hand.

She no longer recognizes it as belonging to her body. Her hand no longer looks _human_.

Her fingers are webbed. Her nails are blackened. And her skin…it's not skin at all. She has _scales_. Like a fish or some manner of twisted mermaid! A-and sharply spiked protrusions that look fish-like as well, on her arms!

"…_den yah will be on de outside as you are inside…"_

"…_as you are inside…"_

Elizabeth's hand trembles violently as her goddess's words echoe in her mind.

"Cap'n?" Bill again. She looks up…and freezes when she sees him as he was under Davy Jones, his skin pail with all manner of sea creatures adorning his body.

"No!" She screams and the whip falls from here now limp hand.

And all at once the strange vision is gone. Bill is Bill again, and her skin is no longer scaley.

Her crew is staring at her, and the looks written on all of their faces say much the same things. They are all certain their captain has gone mad as a hatter.

Elizabeth takes a few deep breathes, a feeble attempt to compose herself. Her voice is quiet and holds none of her usual confidence when she speaks.

"Right. Uh, untie him, and set course f-for, uhm…" She stumbles over her words as though drunk.

"London?" Bill ventures cautiously.

"Yes, right, London." She pauses, opens her mouth to speak again. No sound comes out; she knows not what to say. She brushes past Bill and the rest of the crew scrambles to make way for her as she heads to her cabin.

She does not care what happens when she disappears behind her closed door. She stumbles over to her bed and sits on it and just stares for a moment as the reality of how she has just acted sinks in for her.

When her shock wears off and she finally, truly realizes what she has just done, she lays down on her bed and curls herself into a ball as though she were a little girl. She sobs and sobs.

* * *

><p><em><strong>I've had this last seen in my head for a while now.<strong>_

_**Thanks for the reviews, and all the favorites and alerts!**_


	15. The Compass Does NOT Work

_**Disclaimer: Don't think I ever really did this, but I obviously don't own Pirates of the Caribbean. If I did I'm sure I'd have much better things to be doing that sitting here and writing fanfiction like the nerd that I am. :D**_

* * *

><p>"Rumors, rumors, rumors! There must be <em>someone<em> who actually _knows_ something!" Will growls throwing up his hands as he storms out of the seediest tavern they have yet been led to.

"Well, we can hardly expect more from this lot. Whoevers runnin' the Company nows been payin' people to keep quiet as 'e goes, likely as not." Jack replies, following along behind him, looking no less distressed.

"Bloody pirates." Is Will's only reply. They start heading back towards the _Pearl_.

"S'ppose we'll just have to go lookin' for the ship ourselves. Unless…" Jack trails off and stops walking abruptly.

"What?" Will turns around to face him, looking a bit hopeful.

Jack begins patting the pockets of his jacket, letting out an 'ah!' when he finally finds what he was looking for and pulling it out of its hiding place.

"Don't know why I didn't think 'o this before. Assumin' what ye want most right now is to find the lass." He holds out his compass with a flourish. "Perhaps this could provide us with a proper headin'."

Will stares down at Jack's compass for a moment before taking it into his hands.

"Worth a try, I guess." He says. He stands for a moment, concentrating on his daughter, and opens the compass.

It spins around aimlessly for a moment before finally settling on one direction. Jack peers at it and grins as he turns to start heading back for the _Pearl_.

"Yer welcome, mate."

Will rolls his eyes as he follows.

* * *

><p>Emily doesn't like this. She doesn't like this <em>at all<em>.

The _Revenge_ (apparently the name of the ship she is on; the nice officer had told her the day before) is about to meet up with another ship flying the same colours.

Not all of these British officers will be as nice as the _Revenges_ Captain has been, she knows this for a fact, and the idea of a whole different set of officers coming aboard has her…well, downright terrified.

The men from the other ship have crossed over onto the _Revenge; _she can tell because of how noisy the deck above her has become.

Then all falls silent for what seems like hours. She is curled up on the bed, listening intently. She wonders who has just come on board and if they are important. She fears she will be taken back to the brig, that the newcomers will force the _Revenge_'s Captain to treat her like the prisoner she's supposed to be. She thinks about how she hopes all of this won't last forever, and how she _really_ hopes they won't decide to hang her or something.

It has crossed her mind more than once that her papa might come to her rescue. After all, he has fought these men before, right?

This doesn't comfort her very much, though, as she has never really even seen her papa brandish his sword, has never seen him fight. Try as she might, she cannot bring herself to think of him as anything other than a good blacksmith who enjoys his rum a little too much.

There are times when he hardly seems to notice she's there. Perhaps he would be better off without her anyways.

Her mother on the other hand… she feels much more hopeful that her mother would sail in, blasting even the enormous _Revenge _away with her ship. At least, she hopes she would. She knows her mother has a job to do; it's possible Elizabeth _can't _come to help her.

Emily is beginning to feel more and more down with each moment that passes. She forces herself to think of something, anything, else.

She wonders what day it is, thinks it has been just over a month and a half since she was captured. She realizes that if this is true, she will be eight in two days. She wishes she was home safe and sound and already preparing for the party her papa always threw her on her birthday. She wishes for one of his warm hugs. She…

Is sound asleep…

…The door to her cabin bursts open. Emily wakes with a start and screams when she sees the two large soldiers marching toward her. She stands and tries to run, but they grab her long before she can go anywhere. They grip her arms far too tightly and haul her right off her feet, and she kicks and screams, not because she is so afraid of the fact that she might be going back to the brig, but because they are hurting her, probably on purpose, and she really can't know where they are actually taking her.

She somehow manages to hit one of the soldiers in a rather sensitive area, and he drops her, doubling over. They are up on deck and several other soldiers and officers are staring now. She falls to the deck and the other soldier looks angry now. He pulls her roughly back to her feet. She kicks his leg. He backhands her so hard she flies back to the deck.

She stays there and bursts into tears.

The Captain comes forward, looking outraged.

"What is the meaning of this? She is only a child!"

"She's a pirate's daughter, and we're under orders to make sure you treat her as such. Admiral wants to make sure she knows her place."

"Well, the Admiral is not here, and I will not stand for this on my ship! Throw her back in the brig if you feel it necessary, but do not harm her like that again!"

The other officer has just managed to get back to his feet. The two exchange a glance before looking back to the Captain.

"Aye sir." They each mutter at once before grabbing Emily's arms again. Their grip is no less tight, but they allow her to walk anyways.

She keeps her head down as tears continue to stream down her face, which now has one red cheek and a quickly blackening eye.

* * *

><p>It is a calm day with scarcely a breeze. Will is practicing with his sword in an unpopulated corner of the <em>Pearls<em> deck; he's got nothing better to do at the moment.

He is only half paying attention to what he is doing, though. His thoughts are scattered in several different directions, all of them leading back to his doubts about Jack's unreliable compass. Although Emily is, without a doubt, the foremost person on his _mind_, he knows it would taste a terrible lie to say she is what he _wants_ most.

What he wants most is a woman,two in particular would be perfect. One is miles and miles away, on land. Jade. The other is at least at sea, but still so very far out of his reach that pains him to think about it.

He pauses in his practicing, breathing heavily, and brings a hand up to the ring now hanging from his neck.

_Elizabeth's_ ring.

What if the compass was pointing him toward home, towards Jade, and not the _Revenge_? Or worse yet, what if it was leading them back towards the _Dutchman_. These questions refused to stop haunting him.

He curses himself and pulls the crazy little thing out from his belt where he'd strapped it, opening it without thinking.

His brows furrows when it seems to point him back to his cabin. He tries to think of a good reason for it to be pointing him there, then huffs when he remembers the half bottle of rum sitting next to his bed.

Wasn't it Elizabeth who had basically called him a drunk, on more than one occasion? And his own father, too…

His daughter could be dead for all he knows, and all he can think about is women and rum?

He shakes his head. Pirate or not, he was no scoundrel. Not like Jack.

He sheaths his sword and walks towards the chartroom where Jack is with quick, determined strides. Once there he walks across the room with a few longs steps and slams the compass down on the table in front of the pirate captain.

"Bloody stupid compass. It does NOT work." He growls. "Cannot possibly be telling me what I want most."

Jack sits back in his chair and gives him a lazy smirk.

"Ah. So where's it pointin' this time?"

Will clenches his fists and looks about ready to hit something.

Jack eye's dance with amusement.

"_Pirate_."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Kind of a filler chapter, because I've been bored out of my mind all day. I hope you enjoyed it anyways.<strong>_

_**As always, thanks for the reviews. **_


	16. The She Devils Scare Tactics

"Will! The compass! Are ye sure of where it's pointin' us?" Jack jogs along the deck towards Will, who is nimbly swinging down from the rigging where he had been helping to mend a sail.

"Well, it wasn't spinning aimlessly, if that's what you mean." Will replies evasively, looking nervous. He pauses, then his brows furrow. "Why?"

"I've just mapped out where tha' means we'd be headed. It's pointin' us towards London, Will."

"London? London, England?" The younger pirate asks, as if there is any other place called London. "Are..you sure?"

"Course I am!" Jack replies indignantly. "Sure as I know that we can't go there, no' wit' the _Pearl_! I'd rather no' make it all the way to the lass only to be met with a short drop and a sudden stop, if ye know what I mean." He brings a hand up to rub his neck at the thought.

"Unless…unless she's not _in_ London, but she's still on the _Revenge_ and they're heading there. Is it possible we could head them off?"

"We can't know exactly where they are now. We could be days behind 'em, a week even."

"Do you have a better idea?"

For once, it appears, Jack doesn't. He turns and heads up towards the helm where he begins bellowing out orders, telling the crew to step to and brace the sails so as to get the _Pearl _moving a bit faster.

* * *

><p>"Captain?" Bill calls out quietly from just outside Elizabeth's cabin.<p>

A ship has been spotted on the horizon, and though they are too far away just yet to know what colours the ship is flying, he thinks they should take the _Dutchman _below the water anyways.

With Elizabeth displaying such...unstable…behavior, he thinks it best to avoid a fight with anyone at all costs. He only hopes he can get her to agree some how. But that will be difficult if she continues to keep herself locked up in her cabin.

She doesn't come out unless she must now, ever since she'd gone mad on Jaimee, the poor boy…

He isn't surprised when she doesn't respond.

"Cap'n Swann, please. We're coming up on a ship and I think we should travel below for a bit, just to be sure."

He swears he hears a woman's voice murmuring from within the cabin, a voice that is a bit too low to be Elizabeth's. This has never happened before…

It reminds him of the rumors he's begun to hear; the crew have some how gotten the impression that Calypso was keeping their lonely Captain company. He'd heard it heavily implied, more than once, that the two were even _lovers_. The idea of a woman lying with another of the gentle sex is not completely foreign to him, but he has never pictured Elizabeth as the type for such strange unions.

He can't be sure if these rumors are true, but hopes for Elizabeth's sake that they aren't.

But of course, his hopes are dashed when Elizabeth opens the door, looking considerably less grim than usual.

Her hair isn't pulled back in its usual braid and rests freely on her shoulders; her white sure is clearly untucked. She has none of her other affects on.

Her eyes no longer look as crazed as they did before, and his nerves calm a bit at the thought that she seems more like herself again.

"Forgive me, I…" She trails off, glancing back into her cabin with a hint of a smirk pulling at her lips, then turning back to him. "Perhaps your right. Prepare for a dive and take us under, you know what to do. I'll..be up on deck in a moment."

His eyebrows rose.

"May I be so bold as to ask what has brought your spirits up so high?" He attempts to look over her shoulder and into the room, and swears he catches a glimpse of _someone_ lying on her bed. In a rather interesting pose, no less.

Her eyes dance with amusement as she does her best to block his view with her petite frame.

"No." She says curtly, and there is the slightest hint of annoyance in her voice. "I told you what to do, so get going."

"Aye, Cap'n." He replies. She closes the door. He turns to head back up on deck, mumbling to himself. "The goddess and the Pirate King. A royal couple. How fitting."

* * *

><p>Anger. She's never felt the feeling before, never like this, never to the point where she's wished she could hurt someone because of it.<p>

They have hurt her officer, the only other man who's been nice to her. Emily had heard them say his name was Turnbuckle as they came to drag him away from her cell.

They're keeping him locked up in another room now, calling him a traitor. She supposes it was bound to happen because he'd said he was going to try and find a way to let her out when they got close enough to London, to give her a chance to run.

"_I've heard what they plan to do with you…I can't just sit and watch it happen…"_ He'd said.

Emily sits in the corner of her cell with her knees hugged to her chest, staring down at the floor before her and trying to memorise the faces of the two officers who had dragged him away. The same two officers who had been so rough on her when putting her back in the brig.

She is still only eight years old and isn't sure what she'd do to them even if she had the chance, but she does know this feeling she has growing inside her must be what people lable as hate.

She feels even angrier at the officers for making her feel something so terrible. Tears begin to slide down her cheeks and she buries her face in her arms.

* * *

><p>They are just about to slip below the calm waters before them when Elizabeth comes up on deck, dressed properly with her hair tied back as usual.<p>

"What colours is she flying?" She asks, looking out towards the other ship.

Bill doesn't respond, hesitant to tell her. She turns back to him, expecting an answer.

"Both the British flag and the Company flag, Cap'n."

She gives him a smirk that can only be described as mischievous.

"Good. Take us below and take us in as close as possible. I think it's high time we had some practice with the guns."

"B-but Cap'n…" He sounds worried. The smirk never leaves her face.

"Don't worry, Bill, I don't mean to _massacre_ them, I just want to be sure of what my ship and crew can do. What say we get them running back to their friends with a story to tell?"

A smile slowly makes its way onto Bill's face. Now she's starting to sound more like the Pirate King out to have some fun, and he is sure they can all handle that.

"Aye, Cap'n."

"On the wheel then, Mr. Turner. Marie… " Elizabeth turns to the younger girl, who is already at the helm and doesn't meet her eyes. "I know your Jaimee's been helping you practice with that sword, now we'll see what you can do with it."

She doesn't apologize, because she knows it would never be enough. Marie does meet her eyes for a breif moment though and nods before allowing Bill to take the helm.

* * *

><p>The H.M.S. <em>Royal Pride<em> has been sailing through only the most peaceful waters for days, has encountered only one ship in said time, and is the second largest ship in the Company's arsenal.

Its Captain is sure it will be smooth sailing right to England. What have they to worry about with a ship as well armed as theirs is?

Of course, it is a bit odd that the one ship they've seen a ways behind them seems to have disappeared rather abruptly, never mind the fact that said ship wasn't flying any colours.

"Captain?" His first officer comes up, looking a bit worried. "What shall we do, sir?"

One never knew what they'd find out on these waters, but he is sure the _Royal Pride_ can easily take on any ship that comes their way. He can no longer see the ship, and that should mean there is nothing to worry about.

"As you were, all of you. Who ever it was is gone now."

They have only just settled back into normal routine when the impossible happens.

A ship even more massive than theirs comes up alongside them. The front looks more like a crocodile's mouth than the figure head of a ship. There are guns being rolled out of the sides of the ship, quite a few of them.

And yet the size and appearance of the ship aren't even half as frightening to him as the way it came up through the water right next to them, water spilling out of of the windows where the cannons were as well as the cannons themselves, and from ever other crack and crevice visible.

He stands frozen for a moment. The other ship does not fire, though it seems poised to.

He knows he should try to get the other captains attention, but he has a feeling it won't do any good. It is more than obvious that the other ship is a pirate, though he has never seen a ship of any kind that is anything like this one.

He catches a glimpse of the words _Flying Dutchman_ on the side of the ship and his eyes widen.

"All hands on deck, make ready to defend yourselves!" He yells and that finally gets things moving. His men, frozen to there spots in shock moments before, come back to life, grabbing rifles and loading cannons with all their usual militarian efficiency.

He grabs a rifle himself and fires the first shot.

He swears he hears a woman's confident voice give the order to fire for the other ship. They are peppered with cannon fire, but the other ship doesn't seem to be aiming for either of the _Royal Pride's _two masts.

He catchtes a glimpse of the _Flying Dutchman_'s captain. It is indeed a woman, and she does not look like much at first glance, but the way she holds herself tells him there is more to this woman than meets the eye. She catches his gaze and he sees amusement in her eyes.

She is toying with him. This is good sport for them. The thought makes him angry.

He yells out for his men to board the other ship before aiming his rifle at the captain and firing...

* * *

><p>A bullet sails just past Elizabeth's head. She narrows her eyes at the other captain, but has no time to do anything further about it as the <em>Royal Pride<em>'s men begin boarding the _Dutchman_. One man heads straight for her, and she assumes he's the _Pride_'s first officer.

She draws her sword slowly and does a few fancy spins with it. The deck below them is filled with the sounds of cannon fire and now sword play. The officer before her draws his own sword, eyeing her closely.

"You are a woman!" He states the obvious bluntly, looking shocked.

She smirks and goes at him, thrusting forward with her sword. He only barely has time to block her.

"Yes, I am. Do you have a problem with this? Or are you just afraid I'll kill you anyways?"

His eyes narrow and he comes at her forcefully, and the air around them rings with the sound of clashing metal.

* * *

><p>Marie does not feel afraid facing any of these men; it takes her precious few seconds to take down the first to come at her, and not much more time to cut down the second. She'd been practicing almost non-stop with Jaimee, and now fighting the terrified soldiers seems far too easy.<p>

She has never killed anyone before now, and that thought slows her down a bit, but there's no time for her to think about it as yet another officer comes at her.

* * *

><p>Elizabeth jumps when the officer, who had tripped over the body of one of his own men and fallen, swipes at her legs. He tries to get up; she thrusts forward with her blade and it goes through his right shoulder. He cries out in pain.<p>

She pauses long enough to allow him to get to his feet.

"You know…" He says, walking towards her. "I had a daughter killed by pirates. That ship was captained by a woman too. The captains name was Anne, I believe."

He brings his sword back up and lands a few sharp blows; she parries them all, but barely. He is moving faster, spurred by his own anger.

He tries to bring the sword down on her head and hers meets his just before it hits its target. She is backed up against the railing of the ship now.

"When I found her near death, I promised her that I would never let any pirate get away with murder like that again."

Pictures of Emily run through Elizabeth's head. The thought of _her_ daughter meeting a similar fate by the hands of the men who are supposed to be the good guys sickens her.

"Particularly." He goes on, taking back his sword, then thrusting forward with it hard with each word he says. "If. That. Pirate. Was a. Filthy. Wench. Like. YOU!"

Her sword slips. His sinks straight into her chest where her heart should've been. He buries it there to the hilt and twists.

She gasps.

* * *

><p>Marie is now locked in a battle with a rather large and brutish officer, and he is starting to make her angry.<p>

She pushes forward with all her might and manages to get him stumbling backwards. He swipes at her and catches her stomach with the tip of his blade. She doubles over in shock and then pain.

The large officer hovers over her, breathing heavily, and makes as if to cut her right in half with his sword. She brings her own sword up and braces herself and…

…and the large officer freezes in place, his eyes going wide before he falls sideways, dead.

Marie looks up and around and sees Jaimee, her wonderful Jaimee, standing just a few feet away with his gun still pointed at where the soldiers head had been.

He gives her a questioning look, glancing down at where she clutches her stomach.

She looks down. The cut is deep, but not fatally so, and they can't die anways. She looks back up and nods to him with a shrug before getting to her feet.

* * *

><p>Elizabeth smirks. This is what she's been waiting for; to remind these boys just what they are dealing with.<p>

"I have a daughter too." She says, bringing a hand up to grasp the hilt of his sword. "She was taken by the _Revenge_, know of that ship?" She pulls the sword out slowly. "And it's not as though you boys are being exactly kind to her, though she's only _eight_."

His eyes are wide, his skin is pail.

"Witch! Sh-she devil!" He screams.

She brings both swords up to his neck threateningly.

"You go back and tell whoever has my daughter that _I'm_ coming for her, and if they put up a fight…" She chuckled, flipping his sword around skillfully, holding it out to him. "It'll be the devil to pay."

He takes it and yells for what's left of the men he'd boarded the _Dutchman_ with to retreat.

She watches as the other ship limps its way along the waters before them. It's damaged, but not too badly, she'd made sure of this.

She looks around at the rest of her crew, only a few of which appear to be hurt in some way, and they are already healing. My goddess, she thinks, that was almost too easy.

* * *

><p><em><strong>So…yeah…not much to say here, except I'm having far too much fun writing this. Gotta love spring break, means you guys get a whole bunch of chapters. :D<strong>_

_**Reviews are much appreciated, as always.**_


	17. The Pirates are Coming

_The storm came out of no where, clear blue skys turning ominously gray in a matter of minutes. The waters below them became choppy and the wind picked up, whipping the _Revenges_ three sails around and tossing the ship itself about so harshly one could scarcely stay standing._

Emily is jolted awake rather violently as her small body is thrown back against the bars of the cell. The back of her head explodes in pain, making her feel dizzy. Tears well up in her eyes, her usual reaction to just about everything now, and she wipes them away furiously, then tries to stand up.

It doesn't work so well. The floor beneath her is too unsteady; she nearly falls forward and hits her head again. She grabs the bars and stumbles over to the bench beneath the one small window, high up on the cells one wooden wall. She climbs up and grabs the bars on the window, clinging to them for dear life, and stands on her tiptoes to see out.

She can hardly see a thing, the rain is coming down so hard. The clouds in the sky are thick and dark. Flashes of lightening and crashes of thunder add to the chaotic scene before her.

Had she been asleep for long? It was a perfectly clear night when last she had chanced a peek out the window. Could a storm roll in that fast? This is all seems very strange to her.

A large wave crashes over the ship-and through the window she is looking out of. She is once again thrown off her feet and lands roughly on her hind quarters, now half soaked.

No more tears come, though she thinks she should be afraid. Instead she feels a strange sense of calm.

"Are ye ok?"

Emily jumps and turns around quickly at the sound of anothers voice.

"Yes, I think so." She replies, her eyes wide as she stares at the strange sight before her. There's a little girl about her age in the cell with her. She has dark skin and long black hair. "Who are you?"

"A friend." The little girl smiles, and any fear Emily might have felt upon seeing this strange girl is gone in an instant. "I know yah mothah." The girl has a strange accent that Emily's never heard the likes of before.

Emily stands and only half notices the fact that she can no longer feel the violent movements of the ship being tossed about in the storm.

"You know mother!"

The little girl nods.

"She and yah papa are comin for ye! They'll catch up to ye in no more dan a day!"

"How do you know this?"

The little girl doesn't answer her question, instead reaching out a hand to touch her bruised arms and face.

"Dey hurt ye."

Emily nods.

"A-and Mr. Turnbuckle, the only one who was nice to me. I…I hope mother and papa run them all through!" Emily startles herself by saying, in a strange tone of voice she's never used before.

The strange girl looks at her with dark eyes, and she looks sad.

"Too young." The girl says. "Too young ta be made ta have such thoughts." The girl reaches out and brushes a hand over the bruise on Emily's face. Emily brings a hand up to touch it instantly and is shocked when it doesn't hurt. The girl does the same to both of her arms, and Emily looks down to see the bruises on them disappear right before her eyes. "But," the girl goes on, "ye will get yah wish soon. Very soon. Tell dem. Tell dem yah mothah is comin on de _Flying Dutchman._ Dis ship will nevah make it to London."

Emily is silent for a moment, thinking.

"You brought the storm, didn't you?" She asks. The little girl nods. "Mother…she talked about her goddess."

The little girl smiles again.

"Thank you." Emily backs up a little and grabs her tattered dress, dipping into a curtsy.

When she looks up again the strange girl is gone. The strange sense of calm that had taken over Emily did not leave with her.

She stumbles back over to the bench on the other end of the cell, sits down, and waits calmly for the storm to clear away.

* * *

><p>The storm keeps the <em>Revenges<em> entire crew occupied for close to two hours. Quite a few men are lost to the sea in that time, and the ship has been tossed around enough that it will be slow going in getting anywhere, much less to London. The trip was only supposed to take them two more days. Now they will be lucky to get there in four.

All of this Emily over hears from the men on deck as she continues to sit quietly in her cell. There is still water sloshing around the floor beneath her; she is sitting with her legs propped up in front of her so as not to get wet again, with her back against the bars.

She isn't surprised when one of the same two officers who had taken her nice officer away comes down to check on her. She knew someone would eventually, and had a feeling it would be him.

"Well, you don't appear to be hurt." He says, looking her over.

She keeps her head down and says nothing.

"You've nothing to say? That's a first. After a gale like that I assumed you'd be shaken. Ah well. Less for me to deal with then I suppose."

She thinks that will be the end of it, but of course, it's never that easy.

"Wait a minute. Come here."

She doesn't move.

"Did you not hear me, girl? I said come here."

"Why should I?" She asks, sounding so calm she surprises even herself a little.

He snatches the keys off the wall, where they had somehow managed to remain hanging during the storm, and opens her cell door, sloshing through the water towards her. He grabs her roughly and forces her to look up at him. He says nothing, but looks surprised, and Emily knows that it's because the bruise on her face has healed.

"What… a little witch! I knew it!"

Her brows furrow and she gives him her very best 'are you mad?' look.

"Oh yes, that's it. Because a witch with power enough to heal herself would really have let herself be locked in a cage like this for so long. Very smart." She claps her hands.

Usually she is wise enough to keep such mocking comments to herself, but knowing that her parents will be coming soon helps to lessen her fears of what he could do to her.

He'll be dead soon anyways, and the thought makes her happy in a very strange way. She tries not to think about it.

His eyes widen and he brings his hand up, getting ready to backhand her-again.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you."

She isn't all that scared and so, of course, she doesn't sound like she is. This is probably what gives him pause.

"And why is that, pray tell?"

"Because they'll be coming soon for all of you. It'll be worse on you all if papa – or worse, mother – finds me beat up. I'll be sure to point them straight to you."

His hand drops and he looks shocked.

"And what makes you think they're coming for you? Your father is a pirate. Pirates never care about anyone but themselves."

Emily can't help the smug look she is surely giving him.

"You don't know my papa. Or my Uncle Jack. They'll be coming, and so will mother. Just watch."

The officer sounds angry now.

"I've heard rumors of this so-called she devil of a mother that you have. Stories from survivors of a ship we encountered. All of the men were half mad. You can't actually believe that nonsense."

Emily's lips twist into a smirk.

"You're scared, aren't you? Good! You should be!"

His face turns red like an apple he is so angry. Emily feels a little more afraid now. He once again brings a hand up to slap her…

* * *

><p>The <em>Revenges <em>captain has just finally gotten the chance to retire to his quarters for some much needed rest when he hears his first officers frantic voice calling to him from behind his closed door.

"What is it?" He asks as he opens the door, not caring if he doesn't sound particularly captain-like.

"S-sir there's a ship heading for us!"

"Colours?"

"W-well…"

"Are they not flying any?"

"Oh, they are sir, quite proudly it seems. I-its pirates sir, a big ship with black sails! We'll never be able to outrun them in the state we're in…"

The captain has already retreated back into his cabin to retrieve his sword and pistol.

"Nevermind outrunning them." He says, pushing past his first officer. "I intend to sink them."

* * *

><p>Emily has pressed herself back against the wall, eyes closed, bracing herself for the officer's blow…<p>

…but it never comes. The captain has begun bellowing out orders on the deck above them, telling everyone to make ready the guns and prepare for a fight.

Apparently they've spotted another ship, one that is clearly a pirate ship.

Emily opens her eyes to see that the officer has turned quite pale. She grins.

"I told you! Here they come now!"

He doesn't respond. He turns and locks her back in her cell before leaving. She climbs up to look out the small window and grins upon seeing all of the weary officers scrambling to get ready for a fight.

It will finally all be over soon.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Thanks for the reviews and favorites and all that good stuff. :)<strong>_


	18. Fire!

Three masts and at least fifty guns. The _Revenge _is just as big as Will remembers it being, and it appears to be making Jack (and everyone else on the _Black Pearl_) a bit nervous.

"The _Dutchman_ wasn't too far be'ind us. I hope Captain Swann decides to grace us with her presence again, 'cause if not…" Jack trails off as he stares ahead at the very large ship they are about to attack.

"Elizabeth has her goddess now." Will replies, much more calm, his tone almost mocking as he talks about Elizabeth. "She is the sea. If there's a battle going on I'm willing to bet she'll be here."

"Let's hope your right, mate. Ready on the guns!" Jack bellows, and Will echoes the command as he makes his way down from the helm, ready to cross over to the other ship.

* * *

><p>The <em>Black Pearl<em> is getting closer now and Emily is bouncing on her toes she is so happy to see the familiar black sails, accompanied this time by the black flag with its skull and cross bones now proudly being flown.

The officers scrambling to get ready on the deck in front of her don't look very frightened, and why should they? They've heard stories, but haven't actually seen what the _Pearl _can do.

They certainly won't be so confident when her mother comes. It appears she'll have to wait a bit longer for that, though.

* * *

><p>The <em>Black Pearl <em>eases up alongside the _Revenge_ and both crews are poised to start shooting.

The _Revenges _captain, being the good Royal Navy man that he is, is not about to play games with a pirate ship that is obviously looking for a fight. He knows what they've come for, and doesn't like having to keep little Emily away from the only family she's got.

He is under strict orders though, and has no love for pirates, though he can sympathize with their young ones since he has one of his own.

He waits until the _Black Pearl_ is perfectly positioned.

"Fire!" He bellows without further ado and the command is echoed by his other men, followed promptly by the ear splitting sound of cannon fire.

* * *

><p>The officers have started firing at the other ship and Emily knows she should probably get away from the window now, but she stays put anyways.<p>

She can feel it when the _Pearl_'s cannons start firing. She smiles to spite how frightening it all is.

* * *

><p>Will waists no time in finding a rope and swinging over to the other ship; several others follow his lead. The British officers are a force to be reckoned with, but nothing he can't handle, and getting past them is not what he's worried about.<p>

What he _is_ worried about is just how he's going to figure out where Emily's being kept.

The officers don't seem to be at their best, and he almost feels guilty when he is forced to run them through. Almost.

"_Papa?" _

He hears the high pitched little voice quite clearly above the sounds of cannon fire and clashing swords. Emily.

"_Papa!"_

She cries out again and he turns towards where he heard it. He spots her almost immediately; she is peeking out from a small barred window just above the deck.

He manages to avoid the other officers on his way over to her. She looks terrified and excited and happy all at once.

"Emily! You're not hurt are you?"

"No, papa, I'm ok!"

He looks up and around, trying to find the enterance that will lead him below decks and to her.

"It's that way!" She points to his left. He nods and leans in, placing a kiss on her forehead.

"I'll come get you out!"

* * *

><p>Jack is really wishing Will would just grab the lass and get out. The officers on the <em>Revenge <em>already seem weary and are easy to fight one on one, but they out gun the _Pearl _by far.

They'll never win this battle on their own. What they need is _Captain Swann_, but the woman and her ship is still no where in sight.

A bullet goes flying through his hat and the hat goes flying off. He draws his sword, ready to fight the officer coming towards him with a pistol drawn…

… and is promptly thrown off his feet as a cannon blasts through the side of the ship, nearly hitting him also.

Where oh where is Elizabeth?

* * *

><p>Will finally finds Emily in the brig and a surge of anger courses through him when he sees the state she is in. She doesn't appear to be hurt, but her clothes are tattered, her skin is pale, and she is too thin.<p>

How cruel to treat a child in such a way.

He grabs the keys on the wall and goes to open her cell, sloshing through a few inches of water the whole time.

"Papa, wait, behind you!" Emily exclaims and Will spins around, his free hand already on his sword.

A large officer is coming towards him with a sword already drawn.

"Ah, so _you're_ the little witches father." He glances at Emily. "Yes, I can definitely see the resemblance. I'm sorry," he points with his sword at the keys in Will's hand, "but I can't let you do that."

"I wasn't expecting you boys to _let_ me do anything." Will brandishes his own sword, clasping the keys more tightly in his hand.

* * *

><p>Emily is very frightened now. The officer is bigger than her father and looks meaner, too.<p>

"Papa!" She exclaims.

The big officer goes at her father, his sword a blur to her eyes, his movements quick and precise.

She is shocked when her papa blocks him easily. He looks almost _amused_ as he fights back.

"Papa?" She exclaims yet again, only this time she sounds more shocked then frightened.

* * *

><p>Will barely hears his daughter's shouts as he fights the officer off, backing him into a wall.<p>

Or, not a wall. There is a cell door wide open, resting against the wall. The officer side steps so he is no longer in front of it, then pushes it forward with all his might. It hits Will, of course, and he stumbles backwards. The officer then thrusts forward with his sword; it goes straight into Will's arm, but not the one he's fighting with.

Will looks shocked at first, clutching his now bleeding arm, but then he just looks angry. He goes at the officer again and twists his sword around in a move only he and Elizabeth know. The office'rs sword is easily thrown from his hands. Will then brings his leg up and kicks the officer in his stomach, sending him splashing to the watery floor below them.

The officers could easily pick his sword up now, but Will draws his pistol and aims it at him long before he can. The officer stares up at him in shock.

"Y-you…that's cheating!"

Will can't help but smirk as he remembers the first time he ever fought a pirate, back in Port Royal when he was still just a blacksmith.

"Pirate." He replies, cocking the pistol.

He misses the look of awe on Emily's face as she watches it all happening.

* * *

><p>She's the captain. She knows that in reality she should be staying with her ship. But knowing that Emily is on the other ship she just can't bring herself to stick to what she <em>should <em>be doing.

The _Flying Dutchman_ comes up through the water right next to the _Revenge_. All the men on both the _Revenge _and the _Black Pearl_ stop to stare for a moment at the new comers.

Elizabeth orders her cannons not to be fired until she knows Emily is safe. Bill gives her a reluctant 'Aye, Cap'n' in response. She closes her eyes and wills herself over to the other ship and when she opens her eyes again she is staring into the terrified faces of several very superstitious sailors.

"Hello, boys." She smiles. Only one is brave enough to move, drawing his sword. She takes out her pistol and fires without warning, hitting him straight in the head.

None of the others move, too frightened to do anything. Her smile widens. They've heard stories, then. The _Royal Pride_ had done its job all too well.

She pushes past them, drawing her sword just in case, and heads below decks.

* * *

><p>Will doesn't shoot at first, remembering Emily and glancing up at her.<p>

He's not sure she needs to see this. He keeps the pistol trained on the officer but walks past him and over to Emily's cell.

"Come along Emily," he says as he unlocks the cell door, "lets get you out of here."

Emily stays put, eyes still trained on the officer.

"He hurt me."

"What?"

"He hurt me. And called me a witch. And he's the reason they took away my only friend here."

She glances at the pistol, then looks up at her father, and he is startled by the look in her eyes. Does she want Will to shoot him? He looks back down to the officer.

"Sh-she's eight years old." The officer snorts. "Sh-she's making it up or something, I don't know."

Emily walks past her papa and over to the officer, who is still sitting on the floor, unwilling to move with Will's pistol still trained on him.

She slaps his face hard with her little hand. She knows it probably didn't hurt him as bad as his hits had hurt her, but it felt good all the same.

She turns back to her papa, who looks angry again.

"Doesn't look like she's making it up to me. Turn around, Emily." He says. She does as she's told, burying her face in her papas shirt, and the gunshot rings out through the hallways surrounding them.

* * *

><p>Elizabeth hears the gunshot and takes off running in the direction from which she thought it came. It isn't long before she reaches the brig, where Emily and Will are just finally making there way out.<p>

"Mother!" Emily smiles.

"What happened?" She asks, looking down at Emily.

"Don't worry, the shot was mine." Will gestured towards the officer laying dead behind them. "We need to get out of here, now. Shouldn't you be on the _Dutchman_?" Will asks as he scoops Emily up into his arms and begins running alongside Elizabeth.

"So sorry, I didn't exactly trust you to get her back on your own."

"Oh, and just why is that?"

"Well considering the state you were in the last time I saw you..."

"That was weeks ago!"

"Yes, and…!"

"Hey!" Emily shouts and they both stop running, looking at her. "Stop fighting! There's somebody else we have to help!"

"Emily, we don't have time for…"

"This way, I think. Please Papa!" She says, cutting Elizabeth off.

"Alright, alright." Will puts her down. "Lead the way."

She does, and sure enough they can easily hear someone banging and yelling from inside one of the many rooms.

"Mr. Turnbuckle, is that you?" Emily asks as she runs up to the door.

There is a short pause.

"E-Emily?" The person behind the door asks.

"Yes! The door is locked."

"Emily, we really don't have time for this!" Elizabeth says, hearing foot steps heading their way. She draws her sword.

"He was the only one who was nice to me and they're going to hurt him for it! I won't leave him when he could come with us!"

"Move out of the way." Will says, speaking as much to Emily as he is to the man on the other side of the door. He waits a brief moment, then brings his pistol up and fires at the lock on the door.

The door is thrown open seconds later and a tall, dark haired man steps out. Emily smiles upon seeing her nice officer.

"Thanks." He says, eyeing Will warily.

"Can he come with us?" Emily asks.

Will looks just as wary of the tall clean cut Turnbuckle as the officer is of him.

"I suppose if he wants to." He says after a moment.

* * *

><p>Another officer comes around the corner and makes his way down the hallway. Elizabeth huffs in annoyance.<p>

"I hope we can go the other way and get out of here."

Will draws his sword behind her.

"Jimmy Turnbuckle, or should I say Turn-coat. I knew you'd throw in your lot with them." The officer mocks.

Jimmy says nothing but pushes Emily behind him as Will and Elizabeth get ready to fight the other officer.

The officer is still a ways down the hall way, but that is apparently not going to stop him. He takes out a knife and throws it expertly.

Elizabeth jumps in front of Will, reacting on instinct, and the knife embeds itself straight in her chest.

"Elizabeth!" Will gasps. The officer smirks. Emily peers around Jimmy and lets out a little scream.

Elizabeth barely even flinches.

"Is this some kind of joke?" She pulls the knife out and throws it just as expertly. The officer in front of her freezes in his tracks, now only a few feet ahead of her. She throws the knife at him just as expertly and it hits him in the head.

He falls to the floor, dead of course.

She turns to see everyone else is staring at her.

"What? I'm already dead, remember? Come on, let's get out of here already!"

* * *

><p>"Fire!" Elizabeth says as soon as she makes it back onto the <em>Dutchman<em>. The _Revenge_ has been winning against the _Pearl_, but stands little chance of winning this battle now that it's being fired on from both sides.

The _Pearl_ stops firing eventually. After all, they only wanted Emily back.

Elizabeth has other plans, however. She orders her crew to keep firing. The other ship somehow manages to get ahead of them.

"They're getting away, Cap'n, I think we've lost them. It's doubtful they'll make it back, but we'll just have to wait and see." Bill says.

Elizabeth smirks.

"Oh, really? Because I've been waiting for a chance to use the triple guns."

And that is the end of the _Revenge…_

* * *

><p><em><strong>I hope that was as good as it was promised to be. I've never been very good with fight scenes. <strong>_

_**It may be a while before I put up another chapter; I've been on spring break and school starts back up tomorrow.**_

_**Thanks for the reviews, as always.**_


	19. Cursed

Will watches as the last of the _Revenge_'s three large masts finally sinks below the water, leaving nothing else but bits of burning wood. He looks down at Emily, who is clinging tightly to his side. She seems dazed as she stares at what's left of the huge ship that had been her prison for over a month.

He glances back towards Elizabeth, who is standing near the helm and has a small, satisfied smile placed on her face.

Will's mind is only just beginning to catch up with the rest of him; he realizes that he is on the _Dutchman_, and that Elizabeth has just massacred the _Revenge,_ and seems to be quite happy about it.

He supposes it shouldn't bother him. But the look on Elizabeth's face…

Bill Turner comes up and gently pries Emily away from him.

"Come along, Emily. Your mother and papa need to have a talk." He leads her away, and she clings to him just as tightly.

Will watches them walk off for a moment, takes a breath, winces as he just finally begins to notice the pain in his arm from where'd he'd been stabbed. He doesn't look down to inspect it, just tries not to move it too much as he makes his way towards Elizabeth.

The _Dutchman_'s crew stare at him and murmur as he makes his way towards their captain, perhaps because they know what he is to Elizabeth, perhaps because he looks a mess at the moment (even for a pirate), perhaps because they'd seen Emily clinging to his side and it was a strange sight. He's not sure, and doesn't care. He hears Emily's friend – Jimmy Turnbuckle, he recalls his name being – sounding rather disturbed as he asks if they are really on _the _ship, the _Flying Dutchman_.

He ignores it all and walks straight up to Elizabeth, taking her by the arm and dragging her back towards her cabin.

"We need to talk."

"Must we really?"

"Yes." He emphasizes the word, almost hissing.

"Get your hands off me, I'm captain on this ship, you'll treat me as such, thank you very much. Why are you here, anyways?"

"I took the nearest rope and swung over to the ship I thought would be safest. It just happened to be yours. Your daughter's fine, by the way, and so am I. Not that you bothered to ask because you were too busy laying waste to what was probably the most powerful ship sailing these waters."

She seems a bit startled, then looks indignant.

"Emily would have been the next thing I asked about. Don't assume otherwise, that's hardly fair. Wait, why should you care if I destroyed the _Revenge_?"

"We had them running."

"They took Emily."

"But we'd already taken her back!" Will raises his voice.

"It was a Company ship!" Elizabeth shrieks in return.

"With no other ships to come and help it, it was hardly a fair fight!" He snarls.

"Since when do pirates fight fair?" She shrieks.

"Since when do you smile when sinking a ship with as many men as that one must have had?" He doesn't skip a beat.

She pause, scowls, throws up her hands.

"Ok, so I enjoyed watching it burn. Again I say, they had our _daughter_. It wasn't as though they didn't deserve it."

"And you think that _I'm _not myself."

"I hate you."

He doesn't say anything for a long while, just stares into her eyes.

"No, you don't."

"How do you know?"

"Because I know you."

She doesn't respond immediately. He shakes his head, and then, without any warning, he brings his one hand up and gently grabs the back of her neck, pulling her closer. Before she can make any move of protest he is kissing her. She stiffens at first, but then melts at the familiar feel of his lips on hers, leaning into him.

He pulls away after a long moment and gives her a little half smile.

"You don't hate me." He says and he sounds so sure of himself that it only makes her angry.

She brings a hand up to slap him…

…And stops when a wave of calm washes over, liking a cool drink of water on a hot day. Her goddess's doing, no doubt. She takes a breath and takes a good look at Will for the first time since entering her cabin.

What she sees startles her a little. His arm looks injured, his shirt is stained red, he looks pail…

He's bleeding! She curses herself for not noticing it sooner.

"Will, your arm!" She moves in closer, taking his arm gently and rolling up the sleeve of his shirt.

"It's nothing…"

"It certainly doesn't look like nothing." She leads him over to a chair by her desk. "Sit."

"I-I should go check on Emily, we need to get back to the _Pearl_."

"Will. Emily wasn't injured. You are. So sit."

He does as she asked this time. She opens a drawer in her desk and takes out a few pieces of cloth kept in there for just such a purpose, as well as a bottle of alcohol to clean the wound.

He cringes at the bottle, knowing it will make the wound all the more painful, but says nothing. She takes the cloth and wets it with the bottles contents, dabbing at the wound. He winces.

"It's deep. You're lucky you are not left handed. You'll have to avoid using this arm."

He knows that will hardly be possible, even if he takes Emily back home and starts working in his shop again, but doesn't bother saying this out loud.

"Wonder how the _Pearl_ knew to give up the fight."

"Probably realized you wouldn't have started using your guns until Emily was safe. Jack actually knows you pretty well, too, you know."

She doesn't respond. All is silent as she takes the other strip of cloth and begins wrapping the wound.

"What's she like?" She aks suddenly, never looking up from her task.

His brows furrow.

"Beg pardon?"

"Your, uhm, whatever she is, Jade. What is she like?"

"Well, I… I mean, that's hardly…" He stumbles over his words, flustered.

"I'm only curious. I suppose she wears nice dresses."

"W-well, of course she does."

"Don't suppose she'd know how to defend herself at all."

"No. There aren't many women who need to learn things of that nature." He speaks slowly, choosing his words carefully.

"No. Of course not." Elizabeth replies with a sigh. She pauses again as she ties off the cloth, now bound tightly against the stab wound on Will's arm. She still doesn't look at him.

"Is she beautiful?"

"Elizabeth…"

"I said I'm only curious. Is she?"

"Y-yes. Yes, she's very pretty."

"And Emily… Is she good to Emily?"

"Yes, to spite what Emily would have you believe. I believe Jade cares for Emily very much."

"Do you love her?" Elizabeth's tone remains very serious.

"What?" Will replies, caught completely off guard.

"Do you love this woman?"

"Well, uhm, I don't… I mean, Jade is…"

"You don't love her." It is a statement, not a question, as if Elizabeth already knows.

"I don't know if I do."

She pauses yet again. He's stares at the floor and waits for her to go on.

"Does she know about me?"

"Well, yes…and no."

"Will. I'm not in the mood for games."

"I'm not playing any."

She scowls at him.

"That's not an answer. Does she know about me?"

"Yes, she knows about you. She thinks you're dead, lost to the sea."

She finally, really looks at him, and then she slowly breaks into a humourless laugh.

"I am the sea." She says, and he shivers at the cold tone she's taken on. "I know what to do now. You're going to tell her."

"What?"

"You're going to tell her about me."

"What makes you think I'll do that?"

"Because we're going to follow you back, and I'm sending your father with you to make sure you do." She takes his hand in hers and he looks down as she rubs her thumb over the palm of it. "And if you don't, he'll leave you with this still there, so if you come back out to sea, I will know."

He stares down at his hand, his eyes widening in disbelief. The Black Spot. She'd just cursed him with the Black Spot. He stands abruptly and turns to leave. He is half way out the door before she speaks again.

"And Will."

He freezes.

"I want it back."

He doesn't have to ask to know she's talking about the Chest with her heart in it. He closes her door and pauses a moment to rip off a piece of his bloodied sleeve, then wraps it over the mark on his hand. The last thing he wants is for anyone to see it and start asking questions.

He leaves and finds his father, who is preparing a long boat for them to take over to the _Black Pearl_, with Emily standing close by.

"Will." His father watches as Will walks brusquely over to his daughter. "Are you alright?"

"Yes, fine, great." He says, but it sounds strained. He kneels down in front of Emily. "Are you alright?"

She nods.

"I'm ok, Papa." She says quietly. "Can I see mother?"

"No." Will replies simply.

"Something's wrong." His father says, and he is eyeing Will's wrapped up hand.

"Ask _Captain Swann_." Will stands and picks Emily up, placing her into the boat before getting in himself. "I need to get us back home."

He expects Emily to protest this, but she stares down and says nothing. He stares down at the mark on his hand and tries not to think of just how frightened a man Elizabeth has just made him.

* * *

><p>The journey back is long, very long. Will would be happy to be on land; after all, he's at least out of Elizabeth's reach now. But now he has some rather <em>unpleasant<em> business to take care of, and with his father shadowing him and Emily all the way back to his shop, he knows that wasting time won't be an option.

He has to find Jade and get it over with now.

"Elizabeth wanted me to go with you when you talk to her." His father tells him as they reach his shop. "But I don't think that's necessary." He pauses, eyeing Will with a peircing gaze. "If you don't actually do as she asked, at least try to be convincing if you lie. If I don't know, then the Captain won't have to know, and what she doesn't know..won't hurt any of us."

"Unfortunately, I've never been good at lying." Will sighs and nudges Emily towards Bill, who takes her hand and leads her inside the shop.

He then makes his way up to Jade's cottage.

"Will!" She says when she comes to the door to find him there. "Oh, I've missed you!" And there is no pretense; she looks genuinely happy as she throws her arms around him in an open display of affection. "I was worried when you left, I just knew you'd be going after that ship! Come in!" She pulls him inside her little cottage, and he stands in front of the door looking nervous and awkward. "Well, sit down, and say something! Is Emily ok? They didn't hurt her, did they?" She asks, now sounding worried.

He doesn't sit down.

"No, Emily's fine, although I think it'll be a while before she'll want to go anywhere near a ship again." He gives a small chuckle.

Jade smiles.

"Oh, I wouldn't count on that. I'd give it a few weeks at most and she'll be herself again." She pauses, and her smile fades. "Will, what is it? Did I do something wrong? I mean, you've been gone for a few months, I was hoping…I don't know, I suppose I was hoping you'd maybe missed me."

He bites his lip and just looks at her for a moment, and it suddenly occurs to him that he had. He had missed her. He'd missed the sound of her voice and her smile and looking into her pretty blue eyes.

Pretty blue eyes that will be full of hatred when he tells her.

He moves forward finally, taking her into his arms.

"Of course I missed you. Very much. I…" He starts, but trails off, unable to finish.

She pulls him down to kiss him gently on the lips.

"You what?" She asks, her voice quiet now.

He looks into her eyes, and suddenly knows the answer to the question Elizabeth had asked back in her cabin, right after sinking the _Revenge_.

"I love you." He finishes quietly, and leans down to kiss her again.

"And I love you." She whispers against his lips after a moment. Then she takes his hand and leads him back to her bedroom, where they spend the next hour or so making love, passionately disreguarding the fact that the rest of the world even exists.

* * *

><p>It's dark by the time Will shuffles back into his cabin. Emily is in bed already, and he is thankful for this.<p>

"Well?" Bill asks quietly. "You were gone for a long time. Did you tell her?"

Will nods.

"You can go ask her yourself if you don't believe me. I'm sure she'd be happy to go on shouting about it. You can tell Elizabeth that she should be happy now, because Jade never wants to even see me again."

Bill remains silent. Will slips quietly into his and Emily's bedroom, walking over to a chest at the foot of his bed. He slips a key out of his pocket, opens the chest, and takes out the Chest, with Elizabeth's heart beating audibly from within.

He walks back out, handing it over to his father.

"Here. She wanted this back. She can have it. Tell her to bury it in the sand somewhere like Jones did; give it another year and I bet she'll be no better off then him. I'll make sure Emily is there to greet her on her one day, if Elizabeth even wants to see her."

Bill nods, takes the chest in one hand and reaches for Will's hand with the other.

Will takes off the cloth and Bill rubs the palm of his hand, just as Elizabeth did. The Spot disappears. Will lets out a breath and watches as his father leaves without another word.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Another scene I've had in mind for a while now. The next chapter might be the last for this story, I haven't decided yet. If it is, there will be a sequel, don't worry. <strong>_

_**Thanks for the reviews! :)**_


	20. One Year, One Day, and One Buried Heart

Emily is eight and two months old, and just beginning to talk about how she wishes to be out at sea again. She has seen little of Miss Jade in that time, and she is happy for this. There is no one to try and make her act 'proper' now; her papa doesn't seem as worried about it as he used to, though he still insists she wear dresses.

He also seems so much less happy now, and Emily wishes she could make him feel better, but she doesn't know how. After a while she finds other things to do, and even befriends someone else her age, and so leaves her papa in peace, as this is what he very much seems to want.

~PotC~

A month passes, and his moods seem to become less foul, but he doesn't seem exaclty happy either. She knows better than to be ungrateful for this anyways, though she has a feeling that it has to do with Miss Jade, yet again. She says nothing about this, though.

~PotC~

Emily is eight and five months and has just got done playing with her friend Alex the night she tries to enter quietly and unnoticed into the shop. Her papa has only met Alex once or twice and thinks it innapropriate somehow that they run off together; she is hoping that he will be off at the tavern tonight, so he won't think to ask questions about where she has been with.

He is not off at the tavern, but he doesn't ask who's she's been with either, and the reason why is made clear by the brown haired, pail skinned woman sitting next to him. Miss Jade is dressed strangely; she doesn't appear to be wearing a corset, and her dress puckers out from her chest, hanging loosely over her stomach. Emily stands there, speechless, as her father – looking rather unsure of himself – explains that Miss Jade is going to have a baby. Emily will be a big sister in just a few months.

Emily isn't sure how to feel about this at first, but soon decides that it is very exciting, even though she doesn't like Miss Jade. To have a little brother or sister – how can she not be happy about that?

~PotC~

Emily is eight and seven months when she learns that her little sister is due to be born in about three months. She is more than a little excited, but makes sure to stay clear out of Jade's way, as the older woman's tempermant seems to get worse with each day that passes.

She is sitting in the shop one day, watching her papa hammer away at a sword he is making for one of the men in town, when she finally gets up the courage to ask for something she has been wanting ever since she'd watched her papa fighting off her guard in the brig of the _Revenge_.

He doesn't look surprised when she asks him to teach her how to use a blade. He seems to have known this was coming. He heaves a sigh and says that she is a bit young for that yet. He tells her to wait until she has at least turned nine and then he will begin teaching her how to fight if that is what she really wants.

"Why wouldn't any woman want to learn how to fight?" She wonders aloud. "I mean, it's hardly fair, having to count on the boys all the time."

Her papa stares at her blankly, then smiles, then all out laughs.

"Oh, Emily. Your just like your mother. Thank goodness for it, too, or else I probably wouldn't know what to do with you." And he walks over to place a kiss on her forehead.

~PotC~

Emily is just over eight and nine months and finally the time comes. Jade, great with child, is made as comfortable as possible in her cabin, and now they wait.

Half the town can hear her screams when it starts, screams that only grow louder as she goes. Emily sits on her bed in her cabin waiting as patiently as she can. Her papa is gone for over an hour, making sure Jade and the Turner family's newest addition are alright.

The baby is most certainly alright. He also has lungs to match his mothers.

~PotC~

Emily will be nine in one week, not that anyone seems to have noticed. Her two month old baby brother is still the only thing on anyone elses mind, particularly her papa's. Normally this does not bother her, not one bit; she adores baby Joshua, perhaps even more than her papa does. But now she's going to be nine soon, very soon, and she has been clinging to her papa's promise to teach her how to fight ever since he made it.

He hardly has time for her now, though, and unless they leave with Uncle Jack like he's suggesting they should, she fears he won't want to keep his promise.

She makes her way across town, dressed in a dress like she always is because it makes her papa happy, not really sure where she's going. She's finished her chores and simply did not wish to stay home.

She smiles wide when she runs into Alex, who is running errands for his mother. It is a blazing hot summer day, and he has rolled up the sleeves of his shirt in a way that he usually doesn't.

She freezes when she sees it; on his arm, the most unusual thing for a child their age to have.

It's awfully familiar, too.

"Alex?" She reaches out to brush her fingers over the markings on his arm. "Alex, when did you get this?"

He gives her a questioning look, then looks down at where her hand is and his eyes widen. He quickly pulls down his sleeves.

"M-me mum made me get it last month, when I turned ten." He replies nervously. "Said it's so I won't ever forget who me dad is. N-not like I'd ever care to meet 'im."

"But I've seen it before." She says, confused.

He gives her a blank look.

"Where?"

"What's your last name?"

He'd never told her, and the frown he gives her makes her think he doesn't want to tell her now.

"Tell me where ye've seen this before first." He says.

Emily fixes him with her peircing gaze, giving him the look that Alex always says reminds him of her dad.

"My Uncle Jack has a tattoo just like it…in the exact same place on his wrist."

"You mean…yer uncle who isn't really yer uncle is _that _Jack?" He pauses, and realization dawns on his face. "Then that means...when ye leave with yer papa, it's on…"

"The _Black Pearl. _It also means your Jack Sparrow's son. How come you didn't tell me?"

"'Cause me mum told me not to tell anyone." He glances around as he says it, as if just realizing they are standing where anyone could hear them, but it doesn't look like anyone else is listening. "How come ye didn't tell me about who yer Uncle really is?"

"Papa's tried to make sure no one knew about him being a pirate, so we wouldn't be in danger, which is I guess why Uncle Jack never actually makes port here. At least, not when coming for us."

The two stare at eachother for a long moment before Alex finally speaks again.

"Ye know… I've been stuck with me mum all the time, haven't had any adventures like you. What say we start over so's we don't have to worry 'bout who knows what." He says with a playful smile. "Alexander Jack Sparrow, at yer service." And he gives her an exaggerated, sweeping bow, the smile never leaving his face.

"Emily Elizabeth Turner." She curtsy's in return, giggling like mad.

She is sure to tell her papa about who Alex is when she returns home that night. Her papa is shocked, not that her Uncle Jack has a son, but that said son would turn up here of all places and befriend his daughter of all people.

He steals a glance upwards and mumbles something about how he thinks this must be the goddess's doing somehow and how he wishes she would stay out of things, though he does sound a bit amused.

Emily slips off to bed that night wondering if her papa could be right about it being the goddess's doing – or if he'd just been at the rum again.

~PotC~

Another week passes, and her papa seems to have all but forgotten her birthday. She is mad at first when her papa does not even say happy birthday, but then she sees Alex and he gives her a present, a small pastrie from the bakery that must have taken all of what little money he'd managed to gather to buy.

She shares it with him and is so happy that not everyone has forgotten her that she even gives him a kiss on the cheek. Alex's cheeks turn red like and apple. He gives her a sly grin and tries to play it off like he's actually been kissed by a girl before.

It doesn't help his case that he's only ten, but the grin reminds her of her Uncle Jack, and she likes it so much on him that she doesn't say a word about it.

When she returns home, her papa is waiting for her with a smile and a small, nine-year-old-sized wooden sword, perfect for her to begin practicing with.

"I'll bet you thought I'd forgotten." He says as she comes up and takes the wooden sword from him. She looks down sheepishly.

"Yeah, I did…"

"Hey," he says, kneeling before her and lifting her chin up gently so she'll look at him, "I could never forget you. Please don't ever think that."

She nods and breaks into a grin. He stands and takes her hand, leading her off to a grassy area outside of town where he begins teaching her how to use the would-be weapon she is carrying.

~PotC~

Emily sits on the beach, wating patiently for the sun to set. She is nine years and one month old, and she hasn't seen her mother in over a year, though word has gotten around and she's heard plenty about what her mother was said to be _doing_ over that year. The stories of how her mother had embraced her role as Pirate King, cutting down other ships… it was a little frightening, but Emily wasn't really worried. Her mother was a pirate, pirate's did things like that all the time. She knew her mother wasn't cruel, though, not like some described her as being. She just _knew _it.

A moment passes, and the sun has set, and…

….and there is no green flash. No ship heading her way. Nothing.

She stares out on the calm blue waters as, slowly, her stomach twists itself into a knot. Her mother wasn't there. She wasn't coming.

_Her mother wasn't coming_.

A mixture of emotions takes over Emily's brain as question after question comes to mind; where was her mother? Was she ok? Why wouldn't she come? Was she spending her one day elsewhere? If so, why would she abandon Emily like that? Had she simply forgotten about her daughter?

Tears begin to blur her vision. She gets up from where she's been sitting in the sand, wiping the tears away furiously, and begins trudging back up the beach towards home.

~PotC~

Captain Lizzie Swann, as she has been introducing herself for some time now, has no wish to see anyone on land today, not even her goddess. She just wants to bury the Chest and forget the rest of the world exists.

Of course, things rarely go the way she wants them to anymore. Her goddess refuses to really leave her be.

"A terrible waste of de one day ye are given. Ye should be with yer daughter."

"You said she and Will were happy."

"I said dey had found some 'appiness. I did not mean to make ye tink de girl would not wish to see ye."

"My point is that I'm sure she's better off with out me. Both of them are."

Her goddess watches her as she sets down the chest with _Captain Elizabeth Turner_ carved into the top. This chest had been a gift from Will. Inside it were other gifts from him, and countless letters, along with _the _Chest, the one with Lizzie's beating heart inside it.

"I tink ye would be very surprised, my Lizzie." Her goddess says quietly.

"Well, I have no wish to find out."

Calypso is giving her that look again, the one that makes it seem as though she's looking into Lizzie's very soul, and Lizzie is no less unnerved by it this time around.

"What is it, my goddess?" She tries to ask and not snap, having no wish to anger her goddess.

"I only wonder what is happenin to ye, my Lizzie."

Lizzie doesn't reply. She grabs her shovel and begins digging into the sand.

"Ye have not been keeping up wit your duties."

"I know."

"You made a promise. Ye told me dat ye would do as ye are supposed to once ye took back Emily. It has been a year since den."

Lizze doesn't respond. She keeps digging for a while, then takes the chest and places it in the hole.

"Tell me, my Lizzie. Do ye love me?"

Lizzie freezes and stares at her goddess.

"W-what?"

"Do ye love me?"

She has told her goddess many times before that yes, she does love her. But looking into her eyes now Lizzie finds she is no longer quite sure what love is. She opens her mouth to respond, but no words come out.

Calypso looks sad.

"It is just as I tought, den." She reaches out and brushes a hand over Lizzie's cheek, then leans in closer and places a ghost of a kiss on her lips. "When ye remember what love is, truly, den I will return to ye as you see me now. Know dat I am always watchin ye, though, my Lizzie."

Lizzie frowns. What did her goddess mean? Was she leaving? She opens her mouth to ask, but her goddess is gone before she can.

And then comes the pain. It is an indescribable sensation; the feeling of a thousand needles pricking her in a million different places on her body. The pain hits her hardest in her chest, and she doubles over, landing in the sand on all fours. She gasps for un-needed breaths, unable to move until finally the pain subsides.

She looks down at her arms and hands when it is finally over, and isn't as surprised as she could be when she sees that patches of what appear to be scales have appeared on them like some sort of rash. Her normally tan skin seems to look paler too.

Her first reaction is to be angry at her goddess, but she tries to push it away, tries to make herself think logically. Being angry at such a powerful being won't do her any good at all. Lizzie grabs the shovel again and finally buries the chest.

She leaves all that is left of Elizabeth Turner in the sand along with it.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Right, so, I'm not sure about this chapter for some reason. I've had to rewrite some parts a couple times over. As always, reviews will be appreciated!<strong>_

_**For a better idea of what Lizzie's skin starts to look like, think of the mermaids tales in Pirates 4, except a darkish green color.**_

_**I was thinking I'd start a different story, but I've now decided that I'm just going to keep going under this one, so you can just forget what I said at the end of the last chapter. :)**_


	21. Fighting Like a Pirate

"_I-I don't understand, papa. W-why do you have to go?" Emily stood in the doorway, her glare growing harsher each time he attempted to explain. _

_He didn't really know what to tell her. He stared down at his hand where the Spot had reappeared just days earlier. _

_If Elizabeth wanted him for a nice little chat, she wouldn't have done it like this. He knew how much could have gone wrong. This didn't bode well for him; he knew that too. Would sticking around put Emily in danger? He didn't know that, but he also wasn't willing to risk it._

"_Because…" He turned to his daughter, who'd just turned twelve, and tried not let what he was feeling betray him. "Because Jade is ill…" That, at least, was no lie. "A-and any kind of help that I can get for her will take money that we don't have, but that I can get if I go with your Uncle Jack."_

"_If you go pirating with him, you mean." Her glare grows even harsher, if that his possible, but not for the reasons one would think. "Then take me with you! Don't leave me here with _her_. I _want _ to go with you!"_

"_I know you do, but I can't…"_

"_You've taken me before!"_

"_But Emily, this time is…"_

"_I'm not going to stay here just to take care of that hag! She's not even my bloody mother!"_

"_Emily!" He yelled finally. "That is enough! You wonder why I am keeping you here? I won't have you becoming one of these salty sea wenches, traipsing about in mens clothing, cursing like a sailor. You deserve better than what they end up with! I promise you, I will be back, but you have to stay here this time."_

_All is silent for a moment._

"_Is that why you stopped loving mother?" Emily's voice is quiet now. "Because she wasn't enough of a lady."_

_He turned away from her peircing gaze then, unable to stand it, and pulled a flask out of his pocket, taking a drink and then replacing it before grabbing the small bag he'd packed._

"_You go too far, Emily. Jade was right, I shouldn't have given you as much freedom as I did. It's going to get you into trouble some day. You need to learn your place."_

"You need to learn your place…"

"…learn your place…"

_He left then, without even telling her he loved her. He had no idea of how that conversation would torture him later on._

* * *

><p>The forest around him is thick, and it is hot, so hot. He is gasping for breath, his heart is pounding. He isn't sure how much longer he can keep going. He'd thought he'd be safer once he got to land, thought maybe she'd just give it up, but goddess, how stupid he'd been. First the Company, and now her again. Why does everyone suddenly want him dead?<p>

She is a different matter, though. Not only has she lost her mind, but she's decided to blame _everything_ on _him_, and now it seems she'll stop at nothing until she gets him.

He can hardly feel his legs, he's been running so long, but fear pushes him onward. Fear of what she will do if she gets her hands on him. If there is anything, anything at all, left of the woman he once knew he may be able to reason with her, but he isn't exactly willing to bet it all on that so easily.

After all, he is facing a fate far _worse_ than death if she does catch him, and he has made a promise to his daughter, a promise to come back for her always. He _must_ _not_ break his promise, not to her.

He can hear the men behind him, coming for him, swords drawn, pistols firing, bullets whistling right past his head. He looks back once, just once, to see how far ahead of them he is.

A fatal mistake.

He trips on a tree root, stumbling forward, flailing and trying desperately to stay on his feet. It is no use. He falls forward and lands hard on his stomach and is frozen for a moment as the wind is knocked out of him.

He's lost ground now, too much ground to bother trying to run again. What had Jack once told him about that oldest and noblest of pirate traditions?

Fighting to run away?

Well, he hadn't intended to go down without a fight anyways. He scrambles back to his feet and draws his sword just as the men come barreling towards him through the trees. Their appearances are not quite as frightening as when he'd seen the _Dutchman_'s first crew, but they certainly aren't human anymore, either.

He manages to take down a few of them with his blade, slicing through ones gut and then slitting the throat of another, but then there are just too many of them, so he draws his pistol and fires. He takes down several more this way, but it does him no good, for they are already dead, and are only slowed down by wounds that should be fatal.

Finally he gives in, dropping his sword and pistol, then collapsing to his knees, soaked with sweat and out of breath and too tired to even stay standing.

An all too famaliar face emerges from the small crowd of men – no, more like _creatures_ now– surrounding him.

"F-father?" he gasps.

"I'm so sorry, William. She gives us no choice."

Bill Turner's skin is pale, and he is beginning to look more like he did when Will first met him. Will opens his mouth to respond, but no sound comes out. Bill nods to the man closest to Will, and he steps forward with a strange looking club in his hands.

The back of Will's head explodes in pain, and his last thought before all fades to black is of just how much he wishes he could say sorry to his little Emily…

* * *

><p>She weilds her weapon with an impossible amount of grace for all that she is so constricted in her simple brown dress and corset. The metal shines in the afternoon sun as she twists and turns as if fending off an attacker, though she is alone.<p>

Three hours a day she practices in the field outside of the small town she lives in, just like her papa taught her.

"Should've known I'd find ye 'ere."

The girl is startled by the voice sounding so close behind here. There'd been no one else around just moments before. She spins around on instinct and holds the sword up to the neck of whoever is behind her.

"Oi!" A tall boy with dark hair stands behind her, one hand now on his own sword, though his eyes sparkle with amusement. It takes her a moment to recognize who it is. She has not seen him in three years.

He's grown visibly stronger and more _handsome_ since then.

"Alex?" She lowers her blade, looking shocked, then breaks into a wide grin. "Your back!"

"Well, yes, it certainly looks…" He begins playfully, but is cut off by Emily, who drops her sword and throws her arms around him with all her usual disregard for propriety.

"Oh, how I've missed you!" She exclaims, then pulls back with an angry look upon her face and, to his shock, delivers a hard smack to his cheek. "What were you thinking, disappearing like that, and without even telling me? Must everyone forget I exist?"

He opens his mouth to respond, then seems to think better of it, pausing a moment.

"You don't plan on doin that a second time, do ye? 'Cause if ye do, best just get it over with."

"Not right now, I don't, don't worry." She crosses her arms and sits herself down in the grass, next to her sword.

"Good, then! Moving on." He sits down next to her. "I missed ye too, love. I only left like that 'cause I loath the idea of goodbyes, and I didn't think I'd be able to convince ye to come with me."

"Do you even realize how long you've been away?"

She caught it as he stole a discreet glance downward, looking her over, but she chose not to saying anything this time. After all, she'd done much the same to him earlier.

"Aye, I know how long it's been. Ye look twice as beautiful in a dress as I remember."

"I'm not exactly thirteen anymore, and I hate dresses all the more now." Emily blushes. "Have you begun telling things like that to all the women you meet?"

"Who says I've met any?" He replies, sounding indignant.

She gives him 'the look', the one he says reminds him of her papa.

"Even if I 'ad, which I 'aven't, I would never treat ye the same way." He is sincere; she hears it in his voice.

"Did you come back just to try and woo me?" She says, giving him a mild glare and trying to hide her blush. "Because I'll have you know, Alex Sparrow, you'll have to try a bit harder than that."

"Course not! Or, that's not the only reason anways. I'm came back because… well, I told ye I would, and ye deserve to have _somebody _who's willin to come back for ye. Obviously ye didn't believe me."

"Papa always told me not to trust a Sparrow."

"Oi! When 'ave I ever lied…"

She gives him the look again and he grins.

"To you, I mean!"

"Not once that I know of, I'll admit it. So what have you been up to, then? Did you hear anything…anything of my papa? He never came back, you know…"

Alex suddenly turns serious, very serious, and it is such an unusual thing that she is instantly worried.

"Alex? You have heard something, haven't you?"

"I met my father." He says.

"What does…"

"He said your papa had been in some trouble…"

"Trouble? What kind of trouble?" Emily is quick to interrupt.

"Well, see…"

"What? Alex, please, just tell me!"

Alex sighs and reaches for two items strapped to his belt.

"They were attacked." He says quietly. "He was taken onto the other ship. Jack found these lyin on the deck of the _Pearl_ when the other ship finally sailed off."

Emily stares down at the two items he's just taken out, one of which he places in the grass next to her. It is a leather flask that she easily recognizes as being the one her papa had taken to carrying around.

The other, which he places into her hand, is a small ring, still attatched to the string her papa had used to tie around his neck.

Her mothers wedding ring.

A tear slides down her cheek, just one, before her small hand clenches the ring in anger.

"I'm sorry, love." Alex says, then falls silent.

"Who were they attacked by?"

"Well, erm…"

"Alex!" She stands abruptly, both of her fists clenched now. "If you keep on stuttering like that I'll…I'll…"

"You'll what?" He asks, staring up at her. "Slap me again? It was a Company ship, alright…"

"Not them again!"

"…With someone called _the_ Admiral on board."

Emily freezes now.

"The..Admiral?"

"You've 'eard of 'im before, then?"

"When they captured me before, yes, they talked about the Admiral quite a lot. I remember thinking it was so strange that they should call him _the _Admiral, but never mention his name."

He is again at a loss for words; he never seems to know what to say when ever she talks about the time she was taken.

"I'm assuming you don't plan on staying here for long." She says when he remains silent.

"The ship I'm on put in here just this morning. I have a few days."

The look on Emily's face is enough to have him jumping to his feet, pointing a finger at her.

"Emily, no. I was kidding when I mentioned it earlier!"

"I'm coming with you."

"No, you're not!"

"You're not the boss of me!"

"We aren't eight years old anymore, Emily, ye can't just slip on a pair of breaches and expect no one will notice."

"If I'm careful, no one will. My mother did it!"

"Y-your mother had been out at sea before she left on her own, ye told me so yerself!" He is starting to sound exasperated.

"So have I, I'm no different than her."

"You don't know the first thing about takin care of yerself!" Now he sounds exasperated and desperate.

She picks up her sword, does a few twirls with it to show off, then moves into a ready position in front of him with the blade at the ready.

"Would you be willing to bet on that?"

He says nothing more, drawing his own sword and coming down on her, and she can tell he is using only half his strength, probably hoping she will back down, be frightened. He moves, she moves, he goes at her, she parries every blow. He is the one who begins to look worried as she shows no signs of tiring; suddenly the fight is a little too real. He finally manages to throw her sword from her hands and holds his own up to her neck, and she looks frightened.

"Ok, so you can handle a blade, I'll give ye that. Ye'd still be dead right now." He relaxes his stance and begins to lower his blade.

Her dark eyes harden in an instant, any trace of fear gone. She grabs his tattooed wrist and twists as hard as she can; she isn't strong enough to hurt him bad this way, but he does drop his word. He looks shocked, and then she is behind him, holding a knife up to his neck.

He thinks, rather inapproriately, that he would love to know just _where_ said knife had been so well hidden.

"You're right, _love_," she says, a mocking tone to her breathless voice, "we aren't eight years old anymore, and I've been on my own here since Papa left." She lets him go and he turns around just in time to see her slipping the knife back into its hiding place between her…

He looks up to her, worried she'll pick her sword back up if she catches him staring.

"Ye-ye fight like a pirate! Where did ye learn that move, with the knife?" He asks.

"Papa taught me everything I know about fighting, and I've been practicing with that sword for three hours a day since I was nine." She is smiling triumphantly. "So. Do you think your captain would be willing to take on a new crew member?"

He sighs.

"Oh, yes, I'm sure she will…"

"She?"

"Yes, she. Promise not to tell anyone ye beat me like that and I'll gladly try to tell 'er about you."

"Thank you." Emily brushes off her dress, combs her fingers through her hair, picks up her sword, and strides past him, heading back for her cabin.

She smirks to herself as she can feel his eyes following her.

* * *

><p><em><strong>So, yeah, I jumped ahead in time quite a bit. This might just be one of my favorite chapters. Emily's so fiesty. :D<strong>_

_**Thank you for the reveiws and all that good stuff!**_


	22. Goodbye Joshy and Meeting the Captain

_**Disclaimer, because I haven't done it in a while: I own many things, including the piece of junk laptop I'm writing this on (stupid spell check has decided to stop working), but unfortonately I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean.**_

* * *

><p>"What are you doing?"<p>

Emily freezes upon hearing her brother's voice. She turns to face the seven year old, who is standing in the door way to the kitchen, watching her intently.

"I'm…getting ready…to…go away for a while." She responds, choosing her words with care.

His eyebrows furrow in a way that she would find adorable under any other circumstances.

"What? No!"

She walks over to kneel down in front of him on both knees, locking eyes with him.

"There is nothing to keep me here. Papa's…" She sighed. "Papa's not coming back."

He looks hurt and she can see the tears building in his dark eyes, and she knows they are for her and not her papa, whom Joshua only barely remembers.

"That's not true, you have me! You can't leave Emmy!"

She feels her heart might break upon hearing his name for her. Tears begin to slide down his chubby cheeks. She tries to steel herself.

"I'm sorry, Joshy. Nothing's changing my mind this time."

He throws his arms around her neck and she wraps her arms around his little body, gladly excepting the hug.

"Take me with you!"

"Don't be silly! It'll be bad enough just trying to keep myself from sticking out." She chuckles softly. "It won't be forever. I promise I'll be back."

Time seems to slow for a very strange moment as an intense feeling of déjà vu washes over her. She remembers having a similar discussion with their papa, except theirs hadn't been half as nice.

But she _is not_ their papa. She isn't leaving her little brother with nothing; he has his mother to look after him, he will be fine.

At least, that's what she tries to tell herself.

"Mummy and I will miss you, though!"

Emily tries to hold back a snort.

"I know _you _will." She pushes him away from her gently, looking into his eyes again. "Just like I'll miss you. Now please go back to bed. If your mum wakes and finds you gone she'll come looking for you and I don't want her to know I'm leaving."

He wipes at his eyes and nods. She stands and turns around without another word, walking back across the room.

She pauses a moment, glances back to make sure he's gone. He is. She turns back to the table she's in front of and begins what she had been about to when her baby brother had caught her.

First is the tedious process of taking off the dress she is wearing, which still has quite a few layers to spite how simple it is. She is more than a little relieved to be rid of the corset. She thinks about binding her breasts, as Alex had suggested, but decides not to, as it would seem little better than the corset, and anyways she is not nearly as gifted as some women.

She grimaces as she goes about sliding on her breaches and red blouse, thinking about the things she'd heard the women in town, and even Jade on occasion, mumbling about 'the poor Turner girl'. They think it a curse, her being taller than most girls with a figure they describe as a bit 'boyish'. They say she takes after her papa a bit too much, at least in that respect.

She knows it can't be as bad as they make it out to be; after all, Alex has at least insisted that she is beautiful enough.

She banishes such thoughts from her mind as she buttons up her black vest, then slips on the coat she'd bought in town just a few days earlier. It fits better than she thought it would, to her pleasant surprise.

She then draws her knife and gathers her hair, which flows all the way down her back, in one hand. She carefully brings the knife up, hesitates a moment, then finally makes her move, and the blade slices through her wavy dark brown locks like butter.

Her hair is just past her shoulders now, and she hates to have had to cut it, but managing it will be so much easier now. She proceeds to put her knife away and then braid what's left of her hair.

She then straps on her sword and slips the knife into her boots. She packs her dress and corset into her bag, along with her papa's flask. The string with her mother's ring on it goes around her neck now, and she slips the ring itself beneath her shirt.

She finally walks out into the cool pre-dawn air and begins heading for the docks.

* * *

><p>"Emily? Is that you?" Alex's eyes widen as he stares at his friend, who is striding down the wooden dock towards him, wearing mens clothing and carrying a small leather bag.<p>

"Of course it's me, who else would it be?" She asks, rolling her eyes as she comes to stand in front of him.

He can't see her all that well, for the sun has only just begun to rise, but looks her over anyways.

"What?" She asks, sounding annoyed.

"Nothin'. S'just I think I'm goin to miss seein ye in a dress. Did ye cut yer hair?"

"Yes. So…your captain. You said it was a woman?"

"Aye, her name's Anamaria. She was a friend of me mums, and I think me dad's at some point, considerin the way she looked at me when I first told 'er I was a Sparrow. I get the feelin me dad has a lot of those sorts of friends."

Emily has turned her gaze away from him by now and seems to be scanning the docks.

"Which one is it?" She asks after a moment.

"That one." He says, pointing to the one nearest them.

"Bigger than I was expecting." Emily sounds surprised.

"She's called the _Sea's Queen_."

"She's beautiful."

"Aye, that she is. Ye know…" He pauses, unsure of whether he should bother going on. "Ye could still go back, forget about comin along, I mean Jack had said yer Papa didn't want ye to -"

"I don't care what Papa said. There's nothing for me here, and I want to have a chance at finding out what happened to him. Now, did you talk to your captain about me coming aboard her ship?"

He sighs and nods, looking a bit defeated.

"Cap'n seemed pretty anxious to meet ye actually, soon as I told 'er yer name. Come on." He begins leading her towards the _Sea's Queen_. "One more warnin', ye'll be the only girl with us, 'sides the Cap'n of course."

"I already figured _that_, Alex. Must you insist on treating me like I'm stupid?"

He ignores the question as they begin to climb on board the ship. There aren't many others around yet, but the few that are on deck give them curious glances.

He watches closely to see if any of the looks she receives even hint at the crew realizing she is a girl; none of them do. Although it would be impossible to hide it from these men, he tucks the thought away that she could hide this detail if the need ever arose around others. He could think of several ways that it could come in handy.

"This way." He says, guiding her towards the Captain's cabin at the front of the ship. He leads her through a door beneath the raised deck where the helm is and points towards a door at the end of a short hallway. "That last door there."

Emily looks a bit nervous.

"Will your captain be awake at this hour?"

"Cap'n told me to take ye to 'er the moment ye got on board." He shrugs. "I'd just go ahead if I were ye. She also wanted to set sail at first light, so I'd best get back out there." He takes her bag from her. "I'll stash this in the crew quarters for ye."

She nods and begins heading down the hallway.

"Oh, and Emily." He calls after her softly, and she turns around. "Don't forget she's _yer_ captain now too."

* * *

><p>Emily watches as Alex disappears back outside. She pauses a moment, taking a deep breath to steady herself. She almost can't believe it. She is really on a pirate ship. She is really on a pirate ship as <em>crew<em>.

Yet another Turner ready to _turn _pirate. The thought crosses her mind that maybe, just maybe, all this really is foolish. Alex had tried to tell her that her papa hadn't wanted this for her…

She banishes such silly thoughts from her mind. This is the chance she'd been waiting for, for as long as she can remember. Besides, pirates didn't play by anyones rules, and her papa had given up the right to tell her what to do when he'd decided to just leave her behind.

She walks the rest of the way down the hallway and knocks firmly on the door.

There is a breif pause before the door flies open.

"Oh, what now ye… oh. You're not Jimmy."

Emily is frozen for a moment, staring blankly at the woman in front of her. She isn't much bigger than Emily, with dark skin and black hair streaked just a bit with gray, and right now she is scowling.

"You aren't one of my crew, what are you doing on my ship?"

Emily straightens up and clears her throat.

"E-Emily Turner, miss…" She trails off, unsure of what to say next. The scowl on the Captain's face disappears.

"Aye, the Turner girl, I remember. Come on inside," she turns and heads back into her cabin, and Emily follows warily, "I want to get a look at you."

Emily is still at a loss for what to do, so she settles for taking her hat off and standing in the dim light of a flickering candle. The Captain looks her over and actually appears shocked for a breif moment.

"There' s no doubt you're his daughter. By god, you look like him. Got his eyes."

"Y-you mean my papa? Did you know him?" Emily asks, her curiousity getting the best of her now.

The Captain nods.

"I sailed with him on your uncle's ship up until he was taken."

Realization dawns on Emily's face.

"Alex said..you wanted to see me when you heard my name. That's why, isn't it? Why you even took me on here?" She tries not to sound angry, remembering that this woman is her Captain now. She can hardly help it with the picture that's beginning to paint itself in her mind.

The Captain says nothing for a long moment.

"You might look like your papa, but you sound like your mum. I ain't gonna lie to you. When I left the _Pearl _he asked me to look after you, assuming I ever even crossed paths with you; I suppose he figured you wouldn't stay home like he wanted you too."

The angry feeling in Emily's gut grows ten fold. She can't believe what she is hearing. Her papa didn't want to bother with her anymore, so he asked some other woman to_ look after _her? As if she is still eight years old?

"Forgive me for being _forward_ seeing as you are meant to be my Captain," she says, and she no longer cares if she sounds angry, "but just who are you to my papa that he would have asked something like this of you?"

"Easy, girl, it wasn't like that." The older woman looks amused at best. "Yer papa saved my life at one point on the _Pearl_ and taking care of you would be the least I could do in return. Unless I can convince you to stay here where he thought you belonged."

Emily doesn't respond, but the look on her face is answer enough on its own.

"Didn't think so, but I thought I'd try. I'd probably leave too, if that counts for anything." She looks Emily over again and her tone changes a bit, becoming what Emily supposes is more Captain like. "Now let's see if you really know what you're doing here. How much do you know about sailing?"

Emily had already comtemplated lying about this if she was asked, but now figures she shouldn't bother, seeing as this woman apparently plans to keep her around anyway.

"Uncle Jack taught me some when I was eight. I know little."

"Something's better than nothing. Alex can show you the ropes, then. How about that sword, do you know how to use it?"

"Aye, Captain." Emily replies without hesitation this time, but the Captain eyes her skeptically.

"Best not be lying. You'll be the only other girl on this ship. I trust my men, but they're still men. There's a small extra cabin just down the hall; you can sleep there instead of with the crew if you'd like."

Emily tries not to scowl.

"I can take care of myself, Captain, with all due respect."

"Wasn't intending to imply otherwise. Suit yourself. Go on, then."

Emily leaves the Captain's cabin feeling as bewildered as she is angry. This Anamaria wasn't like any captain she'd ever heard of.

And why was it that everyone wants to believe she needs 'looking after' anyways?

* * *

><p><em><strong>Wasn't actually planning to bring Anamaria into this, but then I watched Curse of the Black Pearl the other day and just had to do it.<strong>_

_**I know these last few chapters haven't maybe been the most interesting. I promise it won't stay that way for long.**_

_**(I just read over what I wrote one last time and realized that I spelled unfortunately wrong in the disclaimer. Proof that my computer hates me now. :D)**_

_**Ok, I'll stop talking now.**_

_**Review please. :) **_


	23. Honest Pirating

"Are ye alright?"

Emily feels Alex's worried eyes on her as he speaks. He always seems to be worried about her. It is getting annoying.

"Em-"

"I'm fine, Alex."

"Not, ye're not." He replies matter of factly, pausing in his own work in order to properly turn to her.

She is one of at least three others attempting to secure a loose sail. She had hoped that she'd be able to remain a bit more stoic, but the way Alex is eyeing her hands makes it obvious that she has failed at this.

Either that or he just knows her far too well.

He comes up next to her and grabs the rope firmly in his own strong hands, giving her little choice but to let him take over. She doesn't put up much resistance, anyways. Her hands fall away from the rope. She looks down at them, red and a bit raw, and lets out a small growl of frustration.

Alex finishes what would have been her job, tying down the rope with the efficient ease of practice.

"What were ye expectin? It takes time to get used to this kind of work." He leads her off to an unoccupied area and grabs her hands, inspecting them.

"It's not as though I don't know what hard work is."

"I know that. S'not as bad as it could be. Ye just aren't used to workin with the ropes like this is all."

She snatches her hands back with a roll of her eyes.

"I know that, you're the one that seemed worried."

He grimaces.

"No need to bite me 'ead off. What's with ye anyways? Everytime I try to help ye at all…"

"I don't want anyones help! Tell me how to do things, that's fine, but stop treating me like I'm so fragile."

"Beg pardon, I thought I was bein a friend."

"Yes, well, it wouldn't matter so much if you were the only one."

He gives her a confused look.

"The Captain. She's been trying to 'protect' me from doing anything interesting from the moment I came on board."

"Interesting? What are ye talking about?"

"Two days ago when we made port in Tortuga, perfect example. She ordered me to stay here with the cabin boy."

The cabin boy who is a small, scrawny, eleven year old orphan that the Captain had apparently found and taken on out of pity.

"Did ye really _want_ to go ashore _there_?" He chuckles.

"Maybe I did. I don't know. It just would be nice if she didn't treat me like I'm different somehow."

"Well.._._"

Emily opens her mouth to say something else, but is cut off by another crewman, who scolds her and Alex, telling them to get back to work.

She avoids Alex for the rest of that day, out of sheer annoyance more than anything else.

* * *

><p><em>How long does She<em> _plan to keep this up? She can't keep me here in the brig forever, can She?_

Well, of course She _could, _but that wouldn't serve Her purpose forever. He is really bound for the Locker, that he knows for certain. He wishes She would stop and let him talk. For that matter, he wishes he could actually get something to come out of his mouth whenever he was in Her presence.

But She terrifies him.

A storm is brewing again outside, but as usual the _Dutchman_ herself seemes to pay no mind to it; he knows it is storming more by the rain and thunder than by the movement of the ship being tossed around on choppy waters.

The ship does start to groan and creak, though, and he can tell by the cold shiver that runs down his spine that She's come out of Her cabin.

He jumps when his father and several other crewmen come walking into the room. His father hands a set of keys to the man next to him.

"It's time." Bill says simply, looking pained as the other crewman unlocks Will's cell and drags him out.

* * *

><p>Emily can feel her heart pounding in her chest. A mixture of fear and excitement has her feeling a bit lightheaded, but also all the more ready to face what they are about to.<p>

A ship has been spotted, a fat merchant vessel, no doubt full of cargo. It is the first vessel they've seen in the few weeks since Emily has been on board that looks to be worth raiding, and the Captain has ordered them to head straight for it.

Emily has never been on a ship that's gone looking for trouble like this. What would her father think of her now, dressed like a pirate and armed like one too, helping to load a cannon and fire on an innocent ship? Would he be ashamed of her? Or would he be proud?

She forces herself to focus on the task at hand as they come up along side the merchant vessel. The Captain waits for what seems like forever before finally giving the order to fire.

Emily lights the cannon as she had previously been shown, then jumps out of the way just in time to avoid the kick back as it fires. The _Sea's Queen_ fires three more shots before the merchant begins firing back. Emily freezes when a bullet from someones musket whizzes right past her head.

She lights the cannon again, steps out of the way just in time, manages to lift a cannon ball and hand it to one of the boys loading the gun she's been working with.

Alex grabs her by the arm and pulls her over to the railing where several other crewmen have already crossed over to the other ship, swords drawn.

"Ye said ye wanted to do somethin interestin!" He shouts over the gunfire when she gives him a questioning look. "Just do me a favor and don't get yerself shot!"

She raises her eyebrows at him and shakes her head before turning towards the railing and drawing her own sword. Alex grabs a rope, slips an arm around her slender waist, and pushes off the railing before she can say a word about it.

* * *

><p><em><strong>And I'm going to stop there, because I can. Don't worry, the next chapter won't take too long, I just think it might make this mini action scene more interesting if I draw it out a bit. <strong>_

_**Reviews are always to AngieRosie and imusic247 for reviewing my last chapter. :)**_


	24. Wine and Corsets

The ship is well guarded for a simple merchant vessel.

This is not to say that the _Sea's Queen_ wasn't capable of taking the other ship; merchant vessel's ran heavily armed, everyone knew that, and the Captain wouldn't have decided to pounce on a ship that they couldn't take. The men on board this ship however, though dressed like common sailors, are all well built and _very _good with their blades.

Emily has never fought anyone before, not like this. She too is _very _good with her blade, but still she only barely manages to defend herself against these men.

This had been Alex's idea. She resolves to be sure and remind him of that later.

Parry a blow, swipe at one man, parry another blow and thrust forward this time, somehow manage to _not _get hit by the bullets flying around her, or by a stray cannon ball. She is tiring fast.

The fighting around them dies down abruptly as the merchant's sailors begin to give up, dropping their weapons, holding up their hands in surrender.

Well, most of them do anyways. Some just won't give up, particularly the one fighting Emily. Just her luck she supposes. He's backed her up to the railing. She brings up her sword, and is blinded for a moment by a quick flash of steel. Her blade is thrown from her hand.

His sword goes straight through her right arm as he thrusts forward. Pain radiates out through her entire arm.

She is clumsy with her left hand as she reaches for her gun, but it isnt necessary. Someone else is already holding a pistol to his head. He drops his sword and is promptly tied up with the rest of the merchant ship's crew.

The Captain shouts out orders in her shrill voice, telling her men to search the ship, see what it has that's worth taking.

Alex is coming her way and giving her an odd look.

"Are ye ok? Yer pale as a ghost." He glances towards her arm, and she realizes that she is clutching it tightly.

"N-no, I…" She trails off, looking startled as she removes her hand.

There is a hole in her shirt, and there is a small amount of blood surrounding it, but there's no wound to accompany it. She moves her arm around some. Nothing. No pain.

"What's that about?" Alex stares blankly at her torn, stained red shirt. "Yer not hurt."

"I-I don't know, I was…" She doesn't know what to say.

"'Ey! You two! Get down to the hold, make yerselves useful!"

Emily and Alex hurry off to do as instructed.

* * *

><p><em>Wine<em>. Crates upon crates of fine French wine. None of the pirates are quite sure what the point of taking it is, but the Captain gave orders to take it all, so they figure she must have a plan for what to do with it.

There are other things packed into the merchant's hold, plenty of things that will be easy to sell. The wine is a bit different because not all will want it, but no one complains.

The Captain, strange woman that she is, hands a knife to the merchant's captain before leaving, but does nothing more, leaving him and his crew tied up. They will escape at some point and sail off home, unharmed save for their wounded pride. After all, they had just been raided by a pirate ship with a _female _captain.

Emily would hear about all of this from Alex sometime after it happened, as she would retreat below decks on the _Sea's Queen _as soon as she got the chance. She would sit in the corner of the crew's quarters where her hammock and bag were and ponder for quite some time the strangeness surrounding what had happened with her arm.

At one point, when she had made herself dizzy trying to figure out just what _had _happened, she would pull out her knife and make a shallow cut in her arm, testing out a theory she now had in her head.

The wound would knit itself back together with only the slightest hint of a scar left behind, and she would quietly put her knife away while deciding that she would keep this strange new bit of knowledge to herself for now.

* * *

><p>"Where are we?" Emily asks, looking out over the railing of the ship.<p>

They've been sailing for at least at least three weeks and have only just made port.

"Somewhere in England, I think. Cap'n wants to try sellin all that wine." Alex replies, smiling at her. "You'll be able to go ashore this time."

Emily smiles back.

"Turner."

Emily turns around to see Jimmy. He is the Captain's first mate, and oddly enough, he is the same man who had been nice to her eight year old self when she was a prisoner on the _Revenge_.

What a funny little world they lived in. He treats her like he is her older brother half the time. The other half he spends trying to make sure she remembers he's also the Captain's first mate.

How he ever got that position, she will probably never know for sure.

"Captain wants to see you, in her cabin."

"The Captain? Why?" Emily asks in confusion, giving him a blank look.

His eyes shine with amusement even as he sounds stern and scolding.

"How should I know? Go find out for yourself, girl!"

Emily tries not to roll her eyes at him as she straightens up.

"Aye, sir." She replies before walking off to do just what he'd said. She slips below decks, walks the short distance down the hallway.

"Come in, Emily." The Captain calls when Emily knocks lightly on the door.

She walks into the cabin and is met with a very strange sight. The older woman is wearing a thin white shift, like what one would wear beneath a dress, and she is holding up a simple corset.

There is a dress laid out on her bed, a very simple and somewhat ragged thing, something a slave would wear.

"You know how to lace one of these up?" She asks.

"Unfortunately." Emily replies.

"Good." The Captain positions the corset over her front and beckons Emily forward. "Then you can lace this one up for me now. Nice thing about having another woman on board."

Emily does as the Captain asks, beginning the tedious process of lacing the corset up.

There is a long moment of silence, where in Emily tries to gather up the courage to ask what she wants to.

"May I be so bold as to inquire as to _why_ you are doing this, Captain?"

A soft chuckle escapes the older woman's lips.

"I know of someone around here who will pay a shiny penny for all that wine our holds a-bursting with, but he won't do buisness with a woman. At least, he tries to be sure that's what everyone thinks, which is probably wise of him in these parts. Jimmy's going to act as Captain."

"I see. You're going with him as…"

"As whatever those around us choose to see me as. A slave, most probably. I won't complain if I get what I want out of it."

"That's..rather clever." Emily mumbles, mainly to her self.

"Most of my ideas are." The Captain replies anyways, rather arrogantly.

Emily allows herself an eye roll as she is standing behind the Captain still. She continues to help the older woman dress in silence.


	25. Oh My, A Goddess?

Alex is laughing.

She wants to kick him. Hard.

This would not be a particularly good idea, however, as she has only just managed to keep up walking along side him. How could she have been so silly as to have forgotten this part? She isn't used to being on ships, and she's just spent more than a month on one. The result of this is that the solid ground she is now walking on feels strange, unnatural. Her legs feel wobbly. She takes a deep breath and tries to force herself to walk like a normal person.

Alex is so far making no attempts to hide his amusement, or help in any way, not that she would have accepted it if he did.

She punches his arm as hard as she can with her small fist. He tries to make out as though it did not hurt him, but she saw him wince, and this gives her some satisfaction. He stops laughing, though his eyes are still smiling.

"Calm yerself, yer not the first to go all wobbly after the first time out on a ship."

"It's _not_ my first time."

"First time in a long time, then."

She doesn't reply. He chuckles.

"Most get used to it, s'nothin to worry about."

"Most?"

He snorts, trying to hold back another chuckle. She huffs in annoyance, turning around.

"That's it! I'm going back to the ship."

"Emily, love, please, stop! There's no sense in forcin yerself to stayed cooped up like that just 'cause o' this!" He grabs her arm, pulling her back to him.

"I look rediculous."

"No, ye don't. Well, not that rediculous. Come on, let's see what's goin on over 'ere." He pulls her towards a tavern that is crowded with more than the usual amount of people. There is music playing from inside. They jostle their way in. Emily pulls her coat tighter around her, hoping to hide any traces of her girlish figure, not that it is all that prominent anyways. She just feels a bit nervous crowded in with so many strangers, almost all of them being men.

There is a woman up on a small sort of stage at the front of the Tavern. She is tall and pail and beautiful, and can't be but a few years older than Alex and Emily. Her voice is beautiful, too. She has long dark red hair and a prominent Irish accent, and is singing a lively Irish folk song.

Alex spies some of their fellow crewmen sitting at a table and drags her towards it, and they somehow manage to find seats. Alex is watching the woman on stage with a strange glint in his eyes and Emily finds herself a bit annoyed by it, seing as the singer on stage is _very _pretty.

She wishes, for a moment, that she looked even half as pale and beautiful as the woman on stage. A breif moment. She is sure that she is not all that pretty, even when she is in a dress, and finds it pointless to dwell on such wishful thoughts.

She watches the singer on stage and is startled when the woman catches her gaze, her sparkling green eyes meeting Emily's dark brown ones. For a moment the woman looks surprised, then she winks before looking away. Emily isn't sure _what_ to make of _that_.

The woman stops singing after a few more songs, and the tavern soon becomes much less crowded.

A barmaid comes up with a tray full of drinks, probably rum, and slides one in front of them all. Emily grimaces down at the brownish liquid and doesn't take a drink. The smell of it reminds her first of her papa, then of her Uncle Jack.

She looks to Alex, who takes a small sip of his, as the rest of the men around her drink heartily. She brings her mug to her lips and pretends to drink, if only so that she doesn't appear different somehow.

"Well, hello there gents." A woman's Irish accented voice rings out from just behind Emily, who turns around quickly to find that the red haired singer is coming towards them – towards her. "I don't believe I've seen any of yah 'round here before. 'Tis always nice to be greeted with new faces."

Several of the men at the table respond, giving her compliments on her singing.

"It's too bad we won't be here for long." Alex says, sounding a bit shy, but when Emily glances in his direction he is giving the singer a rather flirtatious smile. It annoys Emily, though she has no clue why.

It doesn't matter, though, as the singer has her eyes fixed on Emily.

"Were you boys on that ship that came in just this mornin? Fine little ship, that one."

"Indeed we were miss."

"A fine ship she is."

"Wit' an even finer Captain, wha' a lucky lot we are." This gets a laugh from the other men, and even Emily chuckles, thinking about Anamaria and how she'd probably threaten to kill them all if she knew of some of the jokes they made.

"What's yer name, if I may ask, miss?" Alex says, still sounding somewhat shy, but he is giving her that smile again. Her attention is focused on him for the time being.

"Cathleen Hogan." She replies with a grin. "The owner of this fine establishment, as well as _the _entertainer, one of the barmaids, and the occasional cleanin lady when me other girls get lazy."

"Alex, Alex Sparrow." He introduces himself, taking her hand in his and kissing it. "At yer service."

Emily's annoyance grows tenfold, though she knows he isn't really doing anything wrong. It is all in good fun. It's strange to see a different side of Alex. She's never seen him around other girls before.

Cathleen turns to her.

"And what's your name, sailor? Yah're so much quieter than the rest."

Emily hesitates as Cathleen comes closer to her, expecting Emily to do or say something. She's not sure what to do. This seems to be a different sort of town than she's used to being in; they won't take too kindly to a female dressed as a man.

She takes a deep breath.

"B-Billy." She's says quietly, the first thing that comes to mind, then smiles a little when she realizes this will work perfectly. "Billy Turner." She says louder this time, trying to make her voice sound lower, more boyish.

It seems to work.

"Billy. Parents named yah William, I'd imagine? I've always loved that name." She looks up and around.

The tavern still has plenty of men in it; any chair nearby is taken. Emily can see what Cathleen is about to do before she even says anything.

"Looks like me girls have things covered for the moment. I don't suppose yah'd mind allowin me to have a rest, now would yah boyo?"

Emily has two choices. She can pretend that she does not know what Cathleen really wants – and look rather suspicious in some way for it – or she can allow the woman to come forward and sit in her lap.

Both options are a bit unsettling. Somehow, though, she gets a strong feeling that she shouldn't turn this woman away.

"H-how could I turn away such a pretty girl as you?" She attempts to sound like she's flirting as she reaches out and pulls the woman into her lap.

The others at the table are looking more amused than anything else, knowing the truth about her. Only Alex seems to have a problem with any of this. He is scowling at her.

She can't quite tell why.

Cathleen wraps her arms around Emily's neck. They are drawing looks from others in the tavern now, some looking a bit disgusted – probably by Cathleen's rather promiscuous behavior – and some looking jealous.

Cathleen leans in closer.

"I knew yah're secret the moment yah came in here, lass." She whispers in her ear. "Come and see me when yah're friends leave. I need to have a talk with yah."

Emily tries not to let her shock show on her face. She nods her head a bit. Cathleen pulls away and smiles.

"Until we meet again then, my fine sailor." She says aloud before leaning in to lightly kiss Emily's cheek.

Alex's scowl turns in to a look of wide eyed shock.

Cathleen gets up and walks off towards another table.

* * *

><p>"Yer..stayin 'ere?" Alex seems unsure and a bit disgusted by this revelation; put the two together and the look on his face is a perfect imitation of his father. "With 'er? To do what, exactly?"<p>

"To talk to her, you idiot, what else would I be doing? Do you have a problem with that?"

He only eyes her warily, looking unconvinced.

She rolls her eyes.

"I don't even have to know what you're thinking right now to know that you're wrong. I will see you, later." She brushes past him, making her way towards Cathleen, who appears to be waiting for her.

"He don't look to happy with yah." The redhead says, motioning towards Alex. "I hope I'm not causin yah any trouble."

"He's…a bit too protective, or something to that effect. What did you want to see me about, Miss Ho-"

"Me names Cathleen, now come with me." She begins leading Emily towards a room beneath a set of stairs.

Emily is a bit bewildered, but follows for lack of a better choice. Cathleen closed the door behind them.

"Ah, that's better. Now, tell me, were yah aware that yah have the markin's of a goddess upon your soul?"

Emily opens her mouth, but no sound comes out, so she just stares blankly. The words take a long moment to sink in. She isn't much more articulate when they do.

"I, uhm, what?"

Cathleen chuckles softly.

"Apparently the answer is 'no'. You'll have to forgive me for how little sense I must be makin. It's just, I could see it the moment yah came in. Somethin about the eyes, that's how yah can tell."

"I don't understand. What is it you're trying to say?"

"I'll try to explain. People who have been touched by a goddess somehow – most often those who have earned a goddess' protection – have a certain look about them. Not everyone can see it, usually only others who have known a goddess' touch. I don't know why I can. But you… yah've been touched by a very powerful goddess."

"You think…I've been…" Emily shakes her head. "No. You must be mistaken. I'm hardly special enough to have earned the favor of any goddess."

"Oh? And just how is it yah know this so certainly?" Cathleen looks idignant.

Emily doesn't answer, doesn't know _how _to answer. She thinks about how she'd been stabbed weeks earlier, how she'd healed so quickly. She doesn't have to think hard to know what goddess would set her sights on Emily. Calypso.

The problem is, she's long since given up on the idea of _any _goddess being any kind of helpful to anyone. If the sea goddess really cares about her, then why is her papa dead? Why hadn't her mother come back?

"I… I think I'd better be going now, miss."

"Yah don't have to leave so quickly, I didn't mean to upset yah."

Emily is about to open the door. She freezes when Cathleen grabs her arm.

"Please, wait. Those who have been touched by a goddess often have other gifts as well. I can help yah."

"I-I don't want anyones help." Emily stutters as she opens the door and leaves.

"You're welcome here whenever yah decide yah need it, then." She hears Cathleen call after her as she attempts to gracefully exit the tavern, though this is difficult as she still feels strange walking on solid ground.

She knows that Alex and most of the crew had not gone back to the ship, but finds that she has no desire to see anyone else anyways. She pulls her coat tighter around herself again and begins heading for the docks.

* * *

><p><em><strong>I'm working on a separate one-shot to go with this story, of Alex meeting Jack for the first time, for any you that had possibly wondered how that went. Don't know when it'll be finished, but be looking for it. <strong>_

_**Thanks for the reviews and all that good stuff. :)**_


	26. Punishment

Punishment. A fate worse than death. Being sent to the Locker is the worst fate a person could bring upon themselves. It was supposed to be reserved for only the most evil of men and women, those that were so cruel, with souls so tainted, that they did not even deserve the chance at gaining a peace they were probably incapable of achieving anyways.

This punishment was unique to every person; that was the way the Locker was designed to operate. It took what was in a persons mind and used it against him. It was nothing short of pure torture.

Calypso has been keeping an eye on one of the Lockers occupants, and she has come to the conclusion that _something_ must be done.

Because William Turner is, in fact, _not_ among those who deserve such a terrible fate, not even close.

* * *

><p>It is a cruel way to die, being made to feel guilty for things one had already been punished enough for in life.<p>

This had always been Lizzie's intention for Will, from the moment she captured him. She didn't just want to throw him in the Locker; she wanted to make sure she was on his mind when he entered it. She wanted to make sure that whatever had gone wrong while he was on land would continue to haunt him.

She got her wish.

It is an awful strange sight, that little cabin sitting in the middle of a flat plain of rocky nothingness. At least, it would have been a strange sight had anyone else been able to see it. As it is, the cabin and all its furnishings, and occupants, are part of the nothingness too.

Well, not exactly all of its occupants. Will Turner himself is, at least, very real. The rest is really little more than a figment of his imagination.

"Why did you have to go, Papa! You didn't have to leave me behind!" Emily, in his mind still barely twelve years old, yells at him from the door way to the kitchen.

"I didn't know if you'd be safe!" He pleads with her, tries to _make_ her understand. "I'd heard the stories of your mother… I had to do something!"

"So you just left! Shows how much you cared about me! I hate you!"

"Emily, no!" He moves towards her, and suddenly he is in Jade's cabin, and she is screaming at him too, only she has tears streaming down her pail cheeks.

"Why didn't you tell me? You made it seem as though she died!"

"I didn't think… I mean, you were…"

"I don't care what you thought!" She slaps him hard across the face and then the scene changes again and he is in his shop and blissfully alone. A full bottle of rum sits on the table before him. He moves forward without hesitation, desperate for a drink of any kind, though rum in particular does sound good. He picks up the bottle and brings it to his lips…

And it is empty long before he can take a drink, just as it always is. He drops it back on to the table as the scene changes yet again and this time he is in Elizabeth's cabin on the _Flying Dutchman_, and she is _his_ Elizabeth, not the _creature_ that had become Captain Lizzie Swann.

She does not yell or appear angry. She seems unaware of his presence as she hugs her knees to her chest and sobs and sobs and he does not know what to do at these times. He rushes forward and tries to comfort her, tries to talk to her, tries to do _something_ but she never notices him, but always she just sits and sobs.

On and on and on it goes, different scenes, all of them basically the same. Emily angry at him, Jade looking hurt and angry with him, Elizabeth sobbing uncontrollably, his little Joshua mixed in there at times too, looking hurt as he wonders where his papa is, and always Will can do little more than watch and listen, without even the rum he'd grown used to as some comfort, though he is often tempted with it.

Torture indeed.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Sorry it's so short this time, but I wanted to have a chapter basically devoted just to Will. I'd welcome any comments you have, as always.<strong>_

_**I know we haven't seen anything of Captain Lizzie yet, but don't worry, she'll be making an appearance soon. :)**_


	27. Nightmare

"I'm going to kill you. I knew you'd get us both in trouble one of these times. Bloody…" Emily goes on, muttering a string of curses as she continues to scrub the deck in front of her.

"Tsk tsk tsk." Alex replies, dunking his brush back into the bucket between them and bringing it back down to the deck. "Such _language_. How utterly unlady like of ye." His voice is dripping with sarcasm.

She splashes some of the dirty water in his direction.

"Oi!" He yelps, now sounding idignant. "I was tryin to be a gentleman, or somethin like that. I didn't know she'd get angry over it."

"You picked a fight with a man twice your size, a drunk outside a tavern in Tortuga no less, and made him and his men so angry he chased us back to the ship. Of course the Captain would be angry! She's the one who had to chase them all off! I'm amazed even she was able to manage that with those men!"

"He realized you were a girl! 'e wanted to…well…ye know what 'e wanted! I 'ad to do _something_!"

"Defending my honor, how very _noble_ of you!" Emily snorts. "As if I'm some fine lady! Next time, don't bother, save everyone the trouble!"

"Don't you worry, Love, I won't! Ye know, ye didn't have to tell the Captain it was your fault. You're the girl. You try to save me, bit backwards, innit?"

"Not when _your _the one that's always in trouble."

"Well then, Emily Turner, feel free to simply throw me to the wolves next time, I'll scrub the decks all by meself."

"Don't you worry, Alex Sparrow, I will."

Unbeknownst to the two of them their Capain watches them from her position on the quarterdeck. Anamaria can just make out what they are saying. A smile tugs at her lips as she focuses on Emily. The girl knows how to handle herself, Ana has to at least give her that. She'd only breifly known the girls mother, but still she can see so much of Elizabeth in the tall and rather fiesty girl that is Emily Turner.

If she is honest with herself, she doesn't like having to punish the girl for something that really wasn't her fault. Tortuga can be a dangerous place for anyone, but especially for women, and especially for women who are bold enough to go around dressed as men. She thinks about calling Emily away from her current task, giving her something else to do. It _was_ nice of Emily to try and get Alex out of trouble for once. The girl needed to learn it from someone, though, that thinking like that didn't get you very far, not if you were going to call yourself a pirate.

So, Ana decides to just leave them both to it. She watches the pair for a moment longer as they continue to bicker with eachother, then silently she makes her way below and into her cabin, the hint of a smile tugging at the corners of her lips again.

* * *

><p>Emily is thoroughly exhausted by the time she makes it down to the crews quarters along with Alex. As if scrubbing the deck wasn't enough, Emily and Alex had also been, for all intents and purposes, made cabin boys for the day, so any odd task that had needed doing had been theirs to do.<p>

And, to top that off, they'd been given the task of repairing a sail, which was harder that it needed to be given the fact that Emily had had no clue what she was doing.

Next time they put in at Tortuga, she decides, she'll just stay on the ship. At least then there'd be no chance she'd end up being punished again. If Alex wanted to go get himself in trouble, he could be her guest.

She climbs into her hammock, so exhausted that she actually finds it to be ten times more comfortable than usual, and falls alseep almost instantly.

_It's strangely cold. A storm is brewing. The moon just barely shines through the thick, dark clouds above them._

Emily looks around, confused. How did she get here? She doesn't know.

_The crew seems on edge, jumpy. The Captain is in a foul mood, they can feel it, and when she's in a foul mood…well, it never bodes well for anyone._

Her sudden appearance goes unnoticed; the crewmen around her seem oblivious to her presence. Wait, no, not _men_. She can easily tell they had been men once, but not now. No, now…now they could easily pass for being half _fish_.

_The ship itself seems restless; it creaks and groans as the sails seem to wilt. Bill Turner makes his way across the deck quickly, several of the ships roughest crewmen following close behind him. They slip bellow decks._

Wait, is that her grandfather? It certainly _looks_ enough like him, but he appears to be half…half _fish_, just like the rest of the men around her. W-what is that on his face? She wants to reach out to him, to call out to him, but she knows somehow that it won't do any good, he won't hear or see her, so she doesn't bother.

_The storm is upon them now. Rain begins coming down in torrents, lightning flashes bright, thunder cracks sharp and loud as though the sky above them is being split right open. The ship itselfs seems no more or less restless than it was before, however._

A cold shiver runs up Emily's back, and a dark sense of foreboding has her turning around with the rest of the crew. What she sees puts a chill in her bones the likes of which she's never come close to feeling in her short sixteen years of life.

_The Captain is coming down the stairs from her cabin, glaring at all those looking in her direction. She is a most frightening sight, looking much worse than her crew, the curse progressing twice as fast for her. Her skin is a bluish green, scaled, looking almost slimy. Her hair looks more like seaweed, being dark green in color and also looking slimy._

Emily begins shaking uncontrollably as she backs away instinctively. She knows this woman, this _creature_, would recognize her anywhere, even looking as she is.

Goddess, what had _happened_, what could her mother have _done,_ to deserve _this_.

_The Captain fixes her cold gaze on a man being half dragged up from the brig. Unlike the others aboard this cursed vessel, this man is not dead. He looks like he could be close to it, though. He is too thin, too pale, and looks ten years older than he actually is as a result. He's been kept in that brig for far too long a time._

Emily tears her eyes away from the frightening visage of her mother, turning around to see what everyone is staring at now.

"Papa…oh Papa…" She whispers as she sees her papa being half dragged up the stairs from below decks. He looks awful. She sees her grandfather again, following behind her father.

Her grandfather looks so sad, so helpless.

_The Captain makes her way over to the man. He stares down at the deck, not even glancing up at her. _

"_Will." She says quietly, and to spite her appearance, her voice seems the same as it always was. "Will, look at me."_

_He doesn't respond, at all._

"_I said look at me!" Her voice grows so harsh so suddenly that everyone who can hear is startled._

_Will finally looks up, and the look in his eyes is one of pain and resignation, but not fear, giving one the strange impression that he wants her to just kill him already._

Emily is startled by the look in her father's eyes. She's seen him look sad before, but never like this. And her mother…she'd never seen her mother look so cold.

What was wrong with her mother's _teeth_? They appeared to be sharpened to a point.

"_What more do you want from me, Elizabeth? What can I do? P-please, just…" He trails off._

_The Captain's eyes narrow dangerously. She brings one webbed hand up and backhands him, hard._

"_You do not get to call me that, not anymore!"_

"_Captain Lizzie, then." He says, staring down at the deck again, his voice holding the slightest hint of a mocking tone._

"_You know," The Captain begins, and her tone is blatantly mocking, "I suppose, now that I've had my fun with you, I could just drop you back on land some where." She grabs his arm, pulling up the sleeve of his shirt, apparently inspecting some mark on it._

Emily moves closer, carefully, slowly, only just coming to the realization that this must be some manner of strange dream. She looks down at her fathers arm, trying to see what her mother is looking at.

Her eyes widen just a little, though she shouldn't really be surprised by the P burned onto his skin. Why should it be a surprise that her father had been branded a pirate? As if the world hadn't already known he was one.

The question going through Emily's mind is when did this happen. Sometime after he'd left her behind, obviously, but then she had to yet again ask: just what _had_ happened after he'd left?

Why is she just assuming this is real, anyways? She _is_ just dreaming. She _has_ to be.

"_Let them find and kill you. I rather like the idea of them stringing you up, _pirate."_ The Captain puts a special emphasis on 'pirate', as though the word holds a deeper meaning in her mind. _

"_You won't do that. You want me to be within your reach when I die so that you can take me to the Locker." It wasn't a question of some kind, he seems to _know_ this is what she wants._

"_You still know me too well. I'll do it myself then. Better that way anyways. I'll get to watch."_

Emily watches, horrified, as a rope is brought out at her mothers command. Her mother shoves it into her papa's hands.

She's going to make him tie his own noose.

Emily begins to shake with fear as her eyes burn with oncoming tears. She still tries to convince herself that this _must_ be a dream of some kind, it _can't_ be real.

"_Marie!" The Captain snaps and a young girl comes forward obediently. Her long hair looks much like the Captain's, and she appears to have spikes growing out of her back._

"_Y-yes, Captain."_

"_Tie this to the mast." The Captain hands her the noose. _

_She hesitates, glances at Will, opens her mouth as if to speak._

"_What is it?" The Captain snaps again._

_Marie flinches._

"_N-nothing, Captain." She finally says before turning to go about the task she'd just been given._

Emily keeps watching as the noose is attatched to the towering main mast, as her father is forced to climb up there too, as the noose is hung around his neck by the Captain herself.

"_One last thing, Will." The Captain grabs his chin with her webbed hand, forcing him to look at her. "I want to make sure you don't forget me." She leans in closer. "I want to be all you can think about when you're there." And suddenly her slimy lips are covering his and she is kissing him as though she was still his wife, as though she was still _capable_ of feeling love towards him._

Emily looks away, now, knowing what will come next and knowing she can't bear to watch her father die, though this _must _be a dream.

Her mother's cold laughter echoes in her ears. Emily is sobbing by now, unable to help it, wondering why she has dreamt up something so awful, so twisted.

"Emily…Emily, wake up…Emily, please love, you're only dreamin…Emily!" Alex's worried – and perhaps a bit frightened – voice finally startles her awake.

It takes her a moment to realize that she is still in her hammock, still on the _Sea's Queen_, and not on her mother's cursed ship. She is still shaking with fear and hot tears stream down her face and Alex is not the only one she has woken.

She feels embarrassed upon realizing that several other men are watching her, but they, too, look more worried than anything else.

"Are ye alright? Ye're pale as a ghost." Alex asks her softly. He pauses for a moment when she just looks at him, then slowly reaches out a hand to brush away a strand of hair that is sticking to her damp cheek. "Ye're alright, t'was only a dream."

"I-I know, but..." Emily stutters, then trails off and closes her eyes, trying to force herself to stop shaking.

Someone is pressing something into her hands now, a bottle, urging her to take a sip or two so as to put some color back in her cheeks. She does as she's told, wincing slightly as the spicy rum burns it's way down her throat. The other men surrounding her make their way back to their own hammocks once her breathing turns to normal and she appears to calm some.

Alex, however, continues to hover close to her side.

"Ye were muttering… What were ye dreamin about, Emily?"

Emily grimaces.

"I dreamt about my father…"

"What?"

"He was branded a pirate and sh-she was…"

Alex stares at her blankly.

"Would ye be surprised if 'e _was _branded? 'E _is _a pirate. Or, erm, was. Sorry…"

"I wouldn't be surprised, but that's not the point, the point is that he wasn't before he left…" Emily trails off yet again and all is silent for a moment.

"Who is she?" Alex asks after a moment.

"What?"

"Ye said 'she was…'"

"Why do you want to know so badly?" Emily asks, sounding harsher than she really means to.

"I-I don't know, it's just that I know you, yer not easily shaken, not like this. Must 'ave been some dream."

"Yes, well…it's none of your business."

Emily slides out of her hammock abruptly, shoving her boots on before stalking past Alex. She doesn't know why she's being so mean to him; it's not as though he's done anything wrong. She still feels shaky, though, and can't quite decide whether what she just saw was real or not, and she simply doesn't want to talk about it, doesn't even want to think about it.

Because the dream _felt _real, too real, and that could mean that her papa really _is _dead, and at her mother's hand no less.

It would mean it's official. She has no chance of ever seeing him again.

She needs to get some air. She begins heading out of the crews quarters. Alex starts to follow her.

"Where are ye goin, ye're not on watch tonight."

"I am now. I'll relieve Jesse, I'm sure he won't mind, he'll get extra sleep out of it."

"Emily, I'm sorry, I didn't mean to upset ye more."

"Alex. Please, just, shut it and go back to sleep or something."

She doesn't turn to look at him. He stops following her.


	28. New Friend and THEIR Goddess

"Emily? You're not on watch tonight." Jesse looks surprised as Emily approaches him.

"I know, but I can't sleep, so I figure I should take over and give someone else a chance to get some." Ok, so it was half a lie, she was only _half_ sure she wouldn't be able to get back to sleep, but she also hadn't wanted to try and then wind up with another nightmare.

He eyes her for a moment before shrugging and walking off, leaving her alone on deck save for the other man on watch at the other end of the ship.

She wants to cry, but refuses to let herself. She can't stop thinking about her dream, but at the same time won't allow her self to keep thinking about it.

If she closes her eyes, even for a moment, she can still see her mother's cold, hard eyes as she loops the rope around her papa's neck. The cruel laughter still rings in her ears, too. Anger begins to override her sadness. How could her mother…

No. It was a dream. _Only_ a dream. She isn't sure how she'd managed to conjure that up on her own, or why, but it couldn't have been real.

Still, the whole scene continues to replay itself over in her mind.

"Are you alright?"

Emily is so deep in thought, and so startled by the voice sounding from just behind her, that she spins around with one hand reaching for the sword she'd left below decks.

"Interesting way to answer to your captain." The older woman says quietly, not really looking at all alarmed by Emily's reaction.

"Beg pardon, Captain." Emily replies. "I was, uhm, just thinking. I didn't notice you."

She is expecting the Captain to scold her in some way, and is surprised when she instead comes up to stand next to Emily, staring out to sea like Emily had been previously.

"It was my fault for sneaking up on you like I did. I didn't mean to startle you."

Emily isn't quite sure how to respond. She wonders why the Captain is not asleep, but doesn't quite have the nerve to ask about it.

"I could not sleep. Strange dreams. Not unusual for me." The Captain says after a moment, as if she can hear Emily's thoughts.

"I couldn't sleep either." Emily finds herself saying. "I dreamt of my…" She trails of before the word 'Papa' makes it past her lips.

The Captain turns to her with a questioning look, but doesn't say anything.

"When I first came on board you said that my papa saved your life." Emily hesitates for a moment before going on. "May I..ask how?"

"I was wondering if you would ask." The Captain sounds just a tad amused. "We were in Tortuga at the time. I had stayed on the ship. Some of the men came back drunk, probably with me in mind, and I was sleeping, I didn't have my pistol or my sword with me. They came in and…" She trails of for a moment. "Well, your father returned just in time. I got the impression he'd followed them back, I can't know for certain. He didn't have to help me, mind you. It was foolish of me to leave myself out in the open like that. But he did. Those three bilge rats were so drunk they didn't stand a chance against your father, not when he was as angry as he seemed to be at the time. I sleep with my pistol close by, now. All he ever asked in return for it was that if I should, by some strange chance, come across you, that I would look after you."

Emily isn't too surprised at the tale of her papa's heroics. As angry as she is with him for leaving, she knows that he is a good man, over all anyways.

"I'm surprised no one has tried that with me."

"They've seen what you can do with a sword. And I'm sure they know they'd have your Alex to get through, first."

"M-my Alex?" Emily blushes lightly. "Me and Alex..we've been friends since we were little. He's hardly 'mine' in any shape or form."

"Well, even if that is true," the Captain sounds a bit patronising, as if she knows something Emily does not, "I've no doubt Alex would protect you at least as fiercely as your father did me. And your father barely knew me at the time."

All is silent for a moment as Emily thinks on this.

"I'm sure he would." She says finally.

"Your dream was of your father, wasn't it?"

Emily only nods.

"What happened in it? You looked upset when I first walked up."

"H-he…" And suddenly Emily finds herself telling it all in perfect detail, the whole frightening scene, her mother's terrifying appearance, the defeated look in her papa's eyes, her mother's cruel laughter as the she-devil had strung her papa up.

It seems even more real, saying it all out loud.

The Captain listens quietly. Emily isn't quite sure why the story is tumbling out of her mouth as easily as it is; she'd been thinking only a few minutes prior that she hadn't wanted to talk to anyone at all, much less about her dream. The Captain's presence has a strangely calming affect on her, though. There's something different about the older woman. Emily feels she can trust her.

"How can you be so certain it was just a dream?" The Captain asks when Emily falls silent after finishing her story.

"Because if it isn't, then my papa is dead, and my mother is… might as well be dead too. That _creature_ was _not_ my mother."

There is another moment of silence before the Captain speaks again in a quiet voice.

"Visions as clear as that one are not given for no reason."

"Visions?" Emily's brows furrow a bit.

"Aye, visions, from a goddess." The Captain pauses when Emily gives her a blank look. "You mean you don't know... I noticed it the moment you came on board. It's such a rare thing, to find another who's been touched by a goddess. I almost could not believe it."

"Oh. Oh, no. Not that again." Emily backs away a bit now, not sure she wants to hear this from someone else. Once was quite enough.

"Again?"

"That lady, Cathleen, at the tavern…"

"Tavern? What are you talking about, girl?"

"It's just there was this woman, when we were in England, weeks ago. She told me I'd been touched by a goddess."

"And you did not believe her."

"I'm starting to wonder if I should have."

"Is the vision the only strange thing that's happened?"

Emily only shakes her head.

"Well, what else then?"

"Can I use your knife?" Emily asks, and the Captain gives her a strange look, but bends down to take out a knife that had been hidden in her boot.

Emily takes it and brings it to the palm of her hand, making a small but deep cut, wincing as the pain shoots up her arm.

The Captain's eyes widen a bit when the cut heals itself almost instantly.

"Calypso." The Captain murmurs. "You should feel honored, Emily. It is not often our goddess chooses to protect one so young as you."

'Our goddess'. The words echo in Emily's mind.

"If the goddess is so intent on taking care of me, why is my father dead? Why has my mother gone mad?"

"_Our_ goddess. I don't know anymore than you do. It seems to me that it is not as simple as you are trying to make it. Your mother and father got where they are because of their own actions. The goddess cannot help those who are not willing to be helped."

Emily doesn't respond, just turns to stare out to sea again, thinking.

The Captain looks up at the stars above them.

"Beautiful. I never tire of seeing the stars at night."

Emily joins her in looking up.

"My papa tried to teach me about the stars once, about how you could sort of read them. It was just before he left. He told me they could give you directions. I wish I'd listened."

There is yet another moment of silence.

"He was right, you know." The Captain says, in a much lighter tone than she has been using. She points up at the sky. "Brightest star in the sky, Polaris. That's north even in the China sea…"

Emily listens as the Captain goes on and it is here that a somewhat unlikely friendship is born.

* * *

><p>"What are ye not tellin me?" Alex looks angry, an emotion she's not used to seeing on him.<p>

It's been two weeks since Emily's first 'vision', and her dreams have been no less strange since. It is getting harder for her to sleep, and Alex seems to have noticed.

"What are you talking about?"

"About yer dreams, Love. There's somethin yer not tellin me about yer dreams."

"Maybe that's because it's not your business."

"But yer not sleepin."

"You're worrying over me again. I told you not to do that." Emily gives him an annoyed glare.

"I always worry about ye, though, Emily." He says, looking into her dark eyes with his chocolate brown ones. This gives her pause. He doesn't often call her by her name, not unless he is really serious.

She is reminded of the Captain, how she always refers to Alex as somehow belonging to Emily. She allows a small smile to make its way onto her face as she steps closer to him.

"I know. Thank you, Alex." She places a kiss on his tanned cheek, backing away immediately afterwards, and her smile widens when he blushes a bit.

"Miss Turner! Captain wants you in her cabin!" Jimmy calls out to her. Emily is not surprised by this; the Captain has been trying to teach Emily some things she thought would be useful, how to chart a course on a map, for one thing.

"I'll explain about my dreams. Later. I promise." She smiles at Alex before turning to saunter off towards the Captain's cabin.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Sorry this one has taken longer. Last week of school, things have been crazy. <em>**

**_Review's keep me extra motivated, though. :)_**


	29. Of French Ships and Parleys

"Huh. Not very big. Wonder why we're bothering with them." Emily stares out at the little ship they are fast approaching curiously.

"They're flyin a French flag. Maybe the Cap'n is 'opin for more wine or somethin. Got us a shiny penny for it last time." Alex replied with a shrug.

"Maybe." Emily had sent half of her share from that venture off to Jade (her brother, really) the first chance she got. She'd been doing the same with what profit they'd gotten since. She rarely spent the other half of what was hers, but she kept it hidden among her things, which no one dared touch, and she finds it is kind of nice to know it is there.

The _Sea's Queen_ comes up right along side the French ship and begins firing without question or hestitation, as they always do. Emily draws her sword and goes to grab a rope, thinking to swing over to the other ship.

Alex gives her a roguish grin as he slides an arm around her waste and grabs the rope, swinging them both over at once. She quickly decides she'll have to yell at him for it later; they are on the other ship now. She begins fighting.

She's no stranger to fights like this anymore and holds her own just as easily as the men she sails with. There isn't too much cannon fire this time around, but there are plenty of pistols being shot off, as well as some muskets by the Frenchmen. It takes longer than one would have expected to subdue the men, given that the ship itself didn't look like much, but it ends the same as it always does. The French crew is bound and gagged, and Anamaria has just begun barking out orders to search the ship.

That's when the young woman decides to make her appearance.

She is smaller than Emily's tall frame. She has dark hair and dark eyes that are piercing and a bit cold. The dress she wears is nothing too extravegant, but it certainly isn't something a common person would wear, either, with its rich colors and fine embroidery.

Emily, by pure chance, is the one closest to the woman, having been about to walk into what she assumes is the captain's cabin with Alex and several others following behind her. Startled by the woman's sudden appearance, Emily pulls out her pistol.

"You would shoot a woman who is not even armed?" She asks with a heavy French accent, sneering at Emily. "How awful you boys can be."

For a moment everyone simply stares at the strange woman. Emily attempts to glance back at Alex as she lowers her pistol.

The Frenchwoman lunges forward, reaching unsuccessfully for Emily's sword, and that gets things moving again. Emily re-aims the pistol and cocks it as Alex and Jimmy step forward, grabbing the woman by the arms.

The woman rolls her eyes, attempting to look uncaring, but Emily can see fear behind her eyes.

"It was worth a try, but fine. We will do things your way. Parley."

"Beg pardon?" Jimmy asks.

"You heard me. Parley. You idiots do know of the Code, do you not?"

"But yer a woman!"

"You are not a pirate!"

_Of course,_ Emily thinks sarcastically,because _women _can't _possibly _become pirates ourselves. She un-cocks her pistol, slides it back into place in her belt, looks away to hide her expression as she rolls her eyes.

"Parley. Take me to your captain." The woman replies with a commanding tone to her voice.

They do as she asks for lack of a better way to deal with her.

"She insisted we take her to you Cap-"

"What is your name?" The Captain addresses the young woman, cutting Jimmy off midsentence.

The woman pauses, as if she isn't sure whether to tell them her name. She mutters something in French, the tone of her voice suggesting she is cursing, before responding.

"Adrienne." She replies simply.

The Captain seems to be expecting her to say something more, but she does not.

"What do you want, then?" The Captain hesitates before adding, "Miss."

"I ask only for two things. One is safety, for me and everyone else that was sailing on this ship." Adrienne replies slowly, as if choosing her words carefully.

The Captain nods. Adrienne turns and calls into the room behind her, speaking in French. A long moment passes before, finally, a young boy comes out. He can be no more than nine, with hair much the same colour as Adrienne's, and it is more than obvious that the two are siblings.

"Well, go on then, what else is it you want?" The Captain snaps impatiently.

"Passage. On your ship."

"Why?"

"I am looking…for our father. Somehow I have a feeling we would have more chance getting where we need to go with you. I know very little of sailing, but I can cook."

"And who is your father exactly?"

"Forgive me, Captain, but I do not think that is something you must know."

The Captain seems to think this over for a long moment. Emily, who has been watching the whole exchange quietly, steps forward.

"Captain, i-if I may…"

The Captain turns to her.

"I've seen her, once." She looks her Captain in the eye. "I-in my dreams. You've no reason to trust her; let her stay in that extra cabin. I would watch her."

The Captain eyes Emily a moment, as if looking for a sign that she is lying somehow, but of course she finds none.

"Suppose it would be nice to have a cook on board. You and your brother can stay in our guest cabin, with Emily here."

Adrienne dips into a curtsy and gives a small smile. It is pretty but almost disturbing in a way that has Emily wondering just what she has gotten herself into.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Short chapter, I know. I had a hard time figuring out where to go from here, but I've got it all figured out now, so next chapter will be up soon.<strong>_

_**I love love looooove reviews. :D**_


	30. Can't Think of a Good Title

"You are a woman." Adrienne comments some time later, when they are getting ready to go to bed.

Emily sharply turns her gaze on the French woman, narrowing her eyes.

"It is just that I have never seen a woman on a pirate ship before." Adrienne goes on. "Now I have just met two in one day."

"That would beg the question of just how many pirate ships you've encountered before." Emily replies, the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of her lips, though she is still glaring at her.

Adrienne doesn't respond to this.

The boy who'd been with them is sitting against one wall of the cabin, watching them both as they talk.

"Charles." Adrienne says. "His name. It is Charles." She gestures to the boy.

Charles, although obviously Adrienne's younger brother, is much less prickly than his older sister. His brown eyes are a little lighter in color and much more inviting. He gives Emily a little smile.

"I like to be called Charlie." He adds quietly.

"Charlie it is then." Emily replies. "I have a brother not much younger than you, I think, Charlie."

Adrienne glances at the hammock set up in one corner of the large cabin, which had a bunk on either side to begin with. Emily had brought in the extra hammock.

"I'll sleep in the hammock." Emily says before Adrienne can. "You two can have the bunks."

"How kind of you." Adrienne mumbles before calling out to Charlie. "Come. Time for bed." She makes her way over to him and speaks quietly to him in French, seeming to not even realize she has gone back to her native tongue.

Emily watches as he slides into bed and Adrienne tucks him in, placing a kiss on his forehead. It reminds her of her own brother, whom she misses more than she will ever let anyone know, and leaves her with a hollow feeling in her chest.

Adrienne turns and catches her staring.

"Something wrong?" She asks, sounding more curious than anything else.

"No." Emily replies curtly before climbing into her hammock, forcing the sudden swell of unpleasant feelings away as hard as she can. "It's nothing."

* * *

><p>Emily is used to the strange dreams she is given by now, but they do not come every night. She is relieved when she wakes up after that first morning spent in the separate cabin with no memory of having one. It is always nice to get some peaceful sleep, and she does not want her new sort-of-friends to think her strange. Well, not so soon, anyways.<p>

She gets out of her hammock and goes about doing all her usual chores, adjusting a little to the fact that she now has the job of keeping one eye on Adrienne, Captain's orders. The French woman stays below decks for that first day and keeps little Charlie close, too, so Emily hasn't much to worry about.

The same goes for the second night and day.

On the third day, however, when Emily comes down to the galley looking for whatever Adrienne has to offer for supper, Adrienne pulls her aside.

"This boy you are so friendly with." She gestures to Alex, who is sitting at one of the tables set up in the galley, eating his own supper.

"Alex?"

"Alex. Are you two…"

Emily stares at her blankly.

"What?"

"You will have to forgive me my choice of words. My knowledge of your language fails me at times. I wish to know if you two have shared the same bed."

Emily's eyes widen and she can feel a deep blush crawling up her neck and to her cheeks. A smirk creeps its way onto Adrienne's lips.

"What?" Emily responds in a rather non-Emily-like squeak. "N-no!" And she is talking a bit loud, a few others turn to stare, including Alex. She lowers her voice. "I-I mean of course not, he's just a friend."

There is a long and awkward pause, wherein an obviously very smug Adrienne appears to be thinking over what she wants to say next. Annoyance begins to overtake Emily's embarrassment.

"And just how is it any of your business, anyways?" She demands.

"Je suis désolé." Adrienne replies in French. "Je ne voulais pas vous offenser."

"I am no noblewoman, I do not speak French." And Emily knows she is being a bit rude, but can't bring herself to care.

Adrienne goes on again, in English this time

"I was merely curious. I did not wish for you to get the wrong idea if I were to talk to him."

"Yes, well, it might be better if you kept questions like that to yourself."

Alex is making his way over to them by now, brows furrowed, and Emily beats a hasty retreat out of the galley, leaving Adrienne to explain to him why.

She hears him call out to her softly, but ignores it.

* * *

><p>The next day Emily avoids Adrienne as much as she can, and is busy with keeping an eye on Charlie, as Adrienne has given him permission to explore the ship.<p>

He is a little too curious for his own good, and she spends half of the day chasing after him to make sure he does not get in any ones way. Of course, watching him should be Adrienne's job, but Emily has a feeling Adrienne won't care if she tells her this, so she doesn't bother.

The day after that Charlie makes friends with the cabin boy, Jimmy, and takes to following him around. Emily doesn't bother watching him.

She does, however, keep one eye on Adrienne as she follows Alex around, appearing to be interested in whatever it is he is doing.

Adrienne is flirtatious with him. _Very_ flirtatious with him. Emily isn't sure she likes this. At all. And, in fact, the more she sees of Adrienne, the more she is beginning to not like her, at all, period.

"I am beginning to like this Alex." Adrienne comments that night, when they are headed for bed. "He is a funny one, no?"

"Oh…" Emily forces a smile. "Yes, I suppose he is."

"He talks of you a lot. If I did not know any better…" She trails off, the hint of a smirk curling at the corner of her mouth. "Mais ce n'est évidemment pas de mes affaires. Forget it."

"No..no. What were you going to say?"

"I was just going to say that I think, perhaps, he fancies you. But I could be wrong, of course."

"What boy _would_ fancy me?" Emily mumbles quietly, then speaks up. "Even if you are, Alex hasn't exactly met many other women that weren't me or his mother. At least, he certainly insists he hasn't. Now he has you to compare me too."

"You do not believe yourself to be very pretty, do you?"

Emily doesn't reply as she gets into her hammock.

"Eh bien. Si j'ai ma façon, les choses vont changer assez rapidement de toute façon." Adrienne goes on again in French, and Emily doesn't bother asking her what she said.

She is only just beginning to worry about the fact that she has not gotten any strange dreams in four nights as she drifts off to sleep.

_The tavern is small and dimly lit, but very inviting._

Emily is only a little disoriented by the sudden change in scenery. She is used to this by now.

_Two figures are seated at a table in the far corner of the room. One has dark hair that is pulled back into a braid and wears men's clothing, though if one cared to really look they would notice that it is a young woman. The second is young man with unruly dark hair held back by an ancient, faded, red bandanna._

Emily recognizes the pair sitting in the far corner of the room, and is a little unnerved for a moment, as she always is when she is given a vision of herself. She is older this time, it looks like, perhaps by several years, as is Alex, though they are both still young.

She makes her way over to them and recognizes the bandanna Alex is wearing as being his father's, and she's not even sure she wants to know the story behind that yet.

"_You let her go in that condition?" The woman hisses, obviously infuriated. Her dark, piercing eyes are cold and angry._

"_Don't go gettin angry with me, I didn't mean to _let_ 'er do anythin! She ran off before I could say another word, Emily, wha' was I meant to do?"_

"_She's _with child_, Alex, you _should _have gone after her!"_

Emily's eyes widen. Who were they talking about? With child? Alex's child?

Oh, goddess.

"_And 'ow am I even supposed to know she was tellin the truth?"_

"_Did you share a bed with her?" Emily asks in a mocking tone._

_Alex doesn't respond, looking startled at her bluntness._

"_Of course you did. So of course she was telling the truth. Was she worth it, Alex? All her pretty dresses and sweet French nothings, was she worth it?"_

_He opens his mouth, but no sound comes out. For once Alex Sparrow is simply at a loss for words._

Emily can feel tears building in her eyes, and she can't quite pinpoint why. Perhaps at the thought that Alex may grow to be just like any other man. Perhaps at the thought that it could be Adrienne they are talking about.

Perhaps at the frightening coldness in her own eyes.

"_Ye're right." He finally replies. "I should go, uhm, I mean she can't 'ave gone too far…" He stands and eyes Emily as he backs away a few steps, then turns and quickly heads out of the tavern._

And that's it. The dream is over so suddenly that Emily is frozen for a long moment when her eyes open. When she does finally get her bearings, she doesn't know what to do or think. She looks over at Adrienne, sleeping peacefully in her bed. She thinks of Alex. She wonders just what the dream was supposed to mean; why her goddess would show her that.

She is left with more questions than answers, which is not unusual. She gets up as quietly as she can and tugs on her boots before slipping out of the room for some air.

_**I'm not sure I like this chapter, but I needed to move things along a little somehow. Let me know if the dream was at all confusing, talking about two different Emily's. **_

_**I'm so, so, so, soooo sorry for taking so long. I went on vacation for two and a half weeks, and got an idea for another story, and just decided to put this one away for a while. I promise I haven't given up on it, though! **_

_**To anyone who has actually been patient enough to learn a second language, or actually is French – please don't yell at me if the French is faulty , I obviously only speak English, so I'm relying on Google Translate. :D**_

_**What Adrienne actually said, in order:**_

**Je suis désolé. – I'm sorry.  
><strong>

**Je ne voulais pas vous offenser. – I didn't mean to offend you.  
><strong>

**Mais ce n'est évidemment pas de mes affaires. – But of course it is none of my business.  
><strong>

**Eh bien. Si j'ai ma façon, les choses vont changer assez rapidement de toute façon. – Oh well. If I have my way, things will soon change anways.**


	31. Birthday Presents and Captain Jack

A year. It has been a year since she left. Emily can't quite wrap her mind around it. Time has gone by so fast. She is seventeen years old. Her baby brother has just turned eight.

What bothers her, though, is that she hasn't seen either of her parents in so long – it has been five years since her papa abandoned her – and she feels nothing whilst thinking about them. Not sadness, or even anger for what she knows has happened.

What she does feel is _annoyance _towards a certain French woman.

She's not even sure why she's so annoyed by Adrienne. She just _is_. Perhaps it's because Alex has been so friendly with her. Perhaps it's because Adrienne seems to be everything that Emily is not. Perhaps it's because Emily is sure that Adrienne is insulting her whenever she slips into her native tongue – she is beginning to pick up on what certain things mean when Adrienne does speak French. Perhaps it's because Adrienne doesn't seem to like Emily any more than Emily likes her, and Emily doesn't really know the why of that, either.

Probably it's some combination of all those things. All Emily knows is that she gets the oddest impulse to reach for her pistol whenever Adrienne is around.

Perhaps this time it is a good thing that the _Sea's Queen_ is docking in Tortuga. Emily is in desperate need of some time _away_ from Adrienne, even if she will have to deal with a bunch of wobbly legged drunks instead.

* * *

><p>"Emily? Can I come in?"<p>

Emily walks across the room quickly and opens the door, smiling at Alex as she lets him in.

He is holding a large box that looks suspiciously like a clothing box from a shop. He smiles back.

"I 'ope ye aren't planning to stay 'ere on the ship again. Not tonight of all nights."

"What do you mean, tonight of all nights?"

"Don't tell me ye forgot yer own birthday!"

"No, of course not! I just wasn't expecting _you_ to remember."

"Ye _wound _me. When 'ave I ever forgotten such important things when it comes to ye? Never not once!" He is being over-dramatic and is obviously only half serious, but she can see a hint of real hurt in his eyes. She feels bad for a brief moment, but then his smile is back. "I got ye somethin." He holds up the box rather proudly. "_Not _a silly little pastry this time."

This gets a chuckle out of her.

"Ye laughed! Ye really ought to do that more often. Sounds pretty, just like ye are." He flirts with her playfully. She feels a bit of a blush creeping up to color her cheeks.

"Stop lying and get on with it!"

"Me? Lie? Never! Ok, what I got ye." He walks over to a small desk on one end of the room, sets the box down, waves her over to it. "Go on, open it!"

She walks over to the box, slowly takes the top off of it, stares down at what she can see of its contents, takes out the items of clothing on top to get a look at what else is in the large box. Then she slowly puts it all back.

Then she looks back up to Alex.

"Alex… Where did you get all of this? And _why_? Surely you can't think I would actually _wear_…"

"I didn't steal 'em if that's what ye mean, 'ad them made special, I did." She gives him a look. "How I came by the money for such fancy items…" He goes on with a shrug, grin firmly in place now. "We are pirates, after all. And why wouldn't ye actually wear it?"

"It just… I mean, not that I'm ungrateful, it's a wonderful gift, but I… That's the outfit of a woman who wants to be noticed. And I… don't. Not like that."

He just looks at her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he takes the boxes cap and puts it back on, and walks it over to where Emily's hammock is. He picks up her bag, which is shoved off in the corner behind where she sleeps, and puts the box beneath it where no one will notice it is there.

She watches him with a look of confusion. He walks back over to her.

"Save it for… oh, I dunno, save it for when ye are _that_ woman. Ye'll have yer own ship someday, just watch, and that's a Cap'n's outfit if I ever I seen one."

"Me? A captain? Are you daft?" Emily rolls her eyes.

"Have ye met me father? Tis entirely possible." He goes on when she giggles again. "Happy birthday, Emily." And quickly, giving her no time to react in any way, he leans in and places a kiss on her cheek, right at the corner of her lips.

And then he is gone, and she stares at the closed door, eyes wide.

* * *

><p>"I know of a place that you could go." The Captain offers Emily later, pointing her down a near-deserted side street. "Down that way, then go right. It's at least bit quieter in those parts; there's an inn I stay at sometimes, called the Good Goddess. You'll find it eventually if you go the way I told you."<p>

"The Good Goddess." Emily mumbles to herself, peering down the side street. "Thank you, Captain."

She is just about to head down the street moments later when she hears her name being called. She spins around and forces a smile when she sees Alex coming towards her, a bewildered Adrienne close on his heels.

"I 'alf expected ye'd stay on the ship. Want to come with us? I'm takin Adrienne to the Bride."

Emily grimaces at the thought of going to one of Tortuga's rowdiest taverns.

"I saw the Pearl." He goes on. "It was just coming in as we left the docks."

Emily eyes light up at this. The Faithful Bride is her Uncle Jack's favorite tavern. If she goes with Alex and Adrienne, and if the Black Pearl really has pulled in to Tortuga, it is very possible she'll get to see him.

Although, this means putting up with Adrienne for a while.

"Alright. Lead the way." She replies. Alex does.

"Ye've never been 'ere before, have ye?" Alex asks Adrienne, who is staying close at his side and looking around with a familiar look of distaste. Emily trails along behind them.

"Yes. No. Sort of. I stayed on Papa's ship. He would not let me go ashore."

"Smart man." Alex chuckles.

Adrienne lets out a bit of a shriek as they pass a tavern and a drunk that is just stumbling out of it gets a little too close for comfort. Alex slips an arm around her shoulders and hurries her away.

"Don't worry, Love. I'll keep ye safe."

"I'm sure she could bloody well keep herself safe. Gave her one of my pistols." Emily grumbles, and for some reason the fact that Alex called Adrienne 'love' bothers her. He stopped calling Emily that around the time Adrienne came around. "Stupid girl just won't let me teach her how to use it properly."

Alex turns around, looking a little shocked.

"That's a bit harsh, don't ye think?"

"It's the truth." Emily shrugs, not looking him in the eye.

"Most girls just aren't up for that sort of thing, I suppose." He says, defensively, looking back at Adrienne. "Nothin wrong with that, ye ask me."

"My father used to say it is those of us who are you must watch out for." Adrienne responds, looking pointedly at Emily.

Anger settles in, and Emily's first very unladylike instinct is to hit Adrienne. Her hands curl into fists at her sides. She manages to ignore it, though, and instead stalks past the two of them, heading towards the Bride again.

* * *

><p>Well, she's here now, and doesn't quite know what to do with herself. There's no sign of Jack, at least not yet. She walks over to the bar, gets herself a mug of rum that she won't drink – just so that she won't stick out too much – and settles herself down into the quietest corner she can find. She trains her eyes on the taverns entrance, hoping to see her Uncle swagger his way through it.<p>

Alex and Adrienne come in before too long. He looks around, his brows furrowed, looking a bit distressed. She tugs on his sleeve, whispers in his ear. He calms a bit and slips that arm back around her shoulder, leading her away.

Emily refuses to be _jealous_. She has no good reason to be _jealous_. She's just…just worried about her friend getting too close to a…an evil little…

"Whore." She mumbles under her breath, and feels a little better for it.

"Plenty of those 'round 'ere, aye." A voice that should be all too familiar questions her, and she jumps out of her chair with a hand on her sword.

And then she freezes when she sees that it is, in fact, her Uncle standing before her, eyes sparkling with amusement.

"Bit jumpy? 'aven't seen ye in a long while, but I din't think ye'd forget the sound of yer ole Uncle's voice that easily."

She throws her arms around his neck with such force that he stumbles back a few steps.

"Easy now, dearie." He chuckles as he returns her tight hug. "Come now, let's 'ave a look at ye."

She steps back and gives him a smile as he looks her over a bit, a hint of surprise registering on his face.

He hasn't changed at all, except for a bit of gray streaked through his tangled mass of hair. It's weird considering Emily hasn't seen him in nearly ten years.

"Grew all up, ye did." He says after a moment. "What is it with ye Turner's? Thought for sure ye'd wind up lookin more like yer mum. Course, ye look plenty like 'er too. Got yer papa's eyes, anyone ever told ye that? Not sure I would've recognized ye if not for those eyes."

Emily is caught between blushing and just being annoyed. She settles on the latter.

"Must everyone compare me to my parents like that? I'd much rather just be me, thank you." She sits down and her Uncle follows suit.

"Used to be ye wanted to be just like yer mum." He goes on in a gentler tone when she only stares down at her untouched drink. "I'm guessin ye've 'eard the stories then?"

Of course she's heard the stories, but that's not the reason her view of her mother has changed. She is silent for a moment, debating on whether to just tell him about her dreams.

She decides not to, because it would be too much to explain and she simply doesn't feel like it.

"Aye, I've heard them." She finally gives an absent minded reply.

"I wouldn't believe everythin ye 'ear. Takin into account the rather _interestin_ descriptions I've been 'earin, I'd say it is likely that said tails are 'ighly exaggerated."

She wishes more than anything that she could believe him.

"Uncle…" She pauses, feeling a bit sheepish, though she isn't sure why. She is plenty within her rights to ask what she is about to. "We got letters from Papa for a while, and money, just like he promised. And then suddenly they just stopped. I just want…" And of course she knows what the end result is; knows that her father has been killed, but she is desperate to know _more_.

"Ye want to know what 'appened." Jack replies, and he is being direct with her in a way that she knows he isn't with most people. "I can't tell ye much of what 'appened after..."

"Tell me what you can. Please, Uncle, I need to know _something._"

She is leaning forward on the table, playing with her mother's wedding ring, which she's taken to wearing on her right hand. He glances down at her hands and a knowing look comes over his face.

"For a moment there I was 'alf wonderin if ye'd come 'ere just lookin for me. Yer father would throw a fit to know ye'd gone off on yer own like this to begin with. S'ppose it's a good thing he's not 'ere, drag ye back kickin and screamin 'e would." He gestures towards her hand with the ring on it. "Where's me boy, then?"

Emily moves her hands so they are in her lap and out of sight.

"I don't know where Alex is, nor do I care." She replies, and means it.

Her Uncle gives her the smirk that Alex often imitates when he's about to get himself in some kind of trouble.

"That's not very nice. Ye were all 'e talked about, ye know."

"I…was?" She asks, incredulous.

"One would've though ye were the only girl around for all that ye seemed to be all 'e thought about." And his smirk grew into a grin.

She scowled.

"Well. If he thinks so much of me he sure has got himself a bloody strange way showing it, running off with pretty little French-speaking whores."

Her Uncle seems startled for a moment.

"Now, Emily." He mock scolds her. "That is 'ardly proper language for a lady such as yerself."

"I'm no more a lady than Alex is a gentlemen, though he pretends very well at times." And she crosses her arms, glaring into her still untouched drink and pouting in a way that is all too typical of her young age.

Her Uncle watches her, looking amused, before snatching the mug away and bringing it to his lips to take a hearty swig.

"You never gave me an answer." She says quietly, watching him. "About my father."

He pauses for a second, and it is strange to seem him looking a little lost. As if, for once, Captain Jack Sparrow really isn't sure what to say. Then he takes another drink from the mug.

"First of all, ye should know that I never would've taken 'im on if I'd known…"

"Known what, Uncle?"

"Known why 'e was runnin in the first place…" And he goes on to explain all about her father and how strange and very un-Will-like he'd acted, about how some had thought he'd taken leave of his senses, about how he'd seemed so scared, about how he'd talked about time running out.

Her Uncle is quick to explain that he figured out what was going on much quicker than everyone else had, but there wasn't much he could do. Will wouldn't listen to reason, not even Jack's strange brand of it. He'd been more worried about Emily and Joshua; he wanted to be as far away from them as possible if Elizabeth – Captain Lizzie – found him. Being on land wouldn't help, Will had said. They should know that better than anyone. She'd just send someone else to capture him for her.

Jack had been sure Will was just being paranoid… until Will had shown him the Spot, which had reappeared on his hand.

Months passed, and Elizabeth – Captain Lizzie, he corrected himself again – did find them, and at that point she'd been willing to leave the Pearl be if they just gave her Will. Will had gone willingly, saying it was only logical anyways, and Jack couldn't argue, much as he'd actually wanted to.

Jack had no clue what happened after that, not until he heard a rumor that Will had been captured – by British men who _weren't _working for the crown, just the Company. Jack had no answers when it came to that, he was just as baffled as anyone else by this little piece of information.

One long week and a bold attack on a very large ship later, and they had Will back, complete with a P branded on his arm at about the same place where Jack's was.

Jack tried to shorten the story a bit – the ship chased them for quite a while apparently, finally caught up with them, took them by surprise, and by the time the battle was over…

"…yer father was gone, and I found that little ring along with 'is flask on the deck. What 'appened after that… yer guess is as good as mine."

Emily just stares at him, speechless.

"Emily!" She hears her name above all the other voices surrounding them. She looks up just in time to see Alex coming towards her, Adrienne trailing along behind him, as usual. He pauses a few steps away, apparently noticing who she's with. "Told ye I saw the Pearl comin into the 'arbor. 'Ello Dad."

"Alex."

"Is there something you want?" Emily asks, annoyed.

"Yes. No! Not exactly, I just… are you alright? I just wanted to make sure ye weren't upset or somethin, over what Adrienne said."

Emily peers around Alex to Adrienne, who looks rather annoyed herself.

"I'm fine." She replies curtly.

"You heard her!" Adrienne says testily. "She is fine." She grabs his arm and pulls her towards him. "Come, let's go."

"Are you sure, Emily?" Something in his tone has her looking up at him this time. She locks eyes with him, and for one strange moment she could almost swear that he _wants _her to say she really isn't alright; that he _wants _her to give him a reason to stay.

Jack looks back and forth between the two of them and raises both eyebrows, but says nothing.

"Y-yes." She replies finally, tearing her eyes away from Alex's so as to think a little better. "Yes, I'm perfectly sure that I am fine, Alex, go..do..whatever it is you and Adrienne wish to do."

"Right. Well…" He seems disappointed somehow and says nothing more, turning to walk away with Adrienne, and Emily again finds herself fighting the impulse to reach for her pistol and…

"Ye know…" Her Uncle speaks up. "I think perhaps ye are a bit too much like yer father. Ye could wait an eternity and never find a moment as opportune as that one was."

The worst part is that Emily knows he's right.

* * *

><p><em><strong>I think the ending to this one is awkward, sorry about that. Next chapter will hopefully be up semi-soon, and actually be good. Hopefully. :D<strong>_

_**I know our favorite Captain is at least a little OOC, I just can't seem to get his character quite right. I keep trying, though; I'll get better at writing him eventually.**_

_**Review please. :)**_


	32. Take What You Can

The _Sea's Queen _stays in Tortuga for three uneventful days – uneventful as things can get in Tortuga, anyways – and Emily finds a small book shop just a little ways away from the inn Anamaria told her about. She can read, though not very well perhaps; her father had tried to teach her and she hadn't been interested. She buys a few books from the shop on a whim and keeps to herself in her room at the Good Goddess. She cannot read very fast, but finds she very much enjoys it.

She wishes Alex would come to find her – he knows where she is staying – but he doesn't.

Her Captain comes to the inn, on the other hand, and Emily is somehow not at all surprised to watch the other woman slip into a room with another female in tow.

Nothing surprises her when it comes to Anamaria anymore.

* * *

><p>Emily is stowing her new books in her little corner of the cabin she shares with Adrienne and little Charlie when she catches sight of the white clothing box again.<p>

She thinks very seriously about throwing the promiscuous ensemble over board, but she knows it must've cost Alex a shiny penny. He'll be hurt terribly if she doesn't at least keep it, even if she never wears it.

She stuffs it as far back into her little corner of the room as she can instead.

* * *

><p>"Come in!" Emily calls when she hears a soft knock on the cabin door.<p>

She isn't quite sure what to do when the cabin boy, Timmy, walks into her cabin – very sheepishly, of course – with Charlie in tow. The younger of the two has tears streaming down his face and is nursing an arm that is apparently hurt.

"H-he fell, ye see, from the riggin, and 'e says it 'urts, but, well…" Timmy stutters. Emily slides out of her hammock, where she had been reading again, and makes her way over to the two.

"It's your arm, right? Let me have a look?" She asks Charlie in a gentle voice and he nods as he holds his arm out towards her. She inspects it carefully. The skins color is already going all wrong, turning a sickening purplish color. She frowns. "Can you move it much?"

He seems to try, and he does move it, enough that Emily is satisfied he has not broken it.

"Mais ça fait mal!" He cries. Emily can only assume he said it hurts. She grimaces as more tears stream down his face and he throws his arms around her shoulders, looking for comfort.

"I-it's alright, I promise. It'll hurt for a bit, but you'll be alright. Come now! It could be much worse!" She strokes his hair and looks to Timmy. "Where's his sister?"

"She's with Alex. She didn't pay 'im no mind, so I figured it was either you or the Captain, and then I figured… ye were less likely to punish me for disturbin ye…"

"It's dark, what were you two doing climbing the rigging anyways?"

Timmy just shrugs. Emily sighs and, having nothing further to say, shoos him out of the cabin.

"Alright, come on Charlie, calm down." She pries him away from her neck and leads him over to his bed. "Get some sleep and, uhm, I'm sure it won't be as bad in the morning." She tries to tuck him into bed, but he continues to cry and begins to go on in French again, and she finds that she now has yet another reason to hate Adrienne. As cute as Charlie can be, Emily does not like that Adrienne seems to almost assume Emily will take care of him.

Now she can see why her father didn't keep her out at sea very long when she was little. A ship is obviously not place for a nine year old.

* * *

><p>They are only two nights back out to sea when a storm hits unexpectedly, a very brutal storm that has them losing some of the supplies they have only just bought – and a few crew members as well – to the raging waters below them.<p>

Emily sends up a little plea to her goddess that those lost will be brave enough to say no when her mother asks them if they fear death. She still doubts that her goddess is really watching, much less listening to her, but she figures it can't hurt anyways.

She is nearly lost to the sea herself a few times, but somehow manages to hold on and pull herself back up, and by the end of the night she is rethinking her previous conclusion. Perhaps the goddess really _is _watching over her.

* * *

><p>"Emily!" The Captain calls to her later that night. The storm has finally blown over entirely and they are now sailing on calm waters; the rest of the crew has finished what repairs they can and is now heading off for some much needed rest as they sail back for Tortuga. "My cabin."<p>

"Aye Captain." Emily murmurs as she follows the older woman.

Anamaria is silent for a long moment, and Emily feels a strange sense of dread.

"Captain?"

"You were friends with Jimmy, aye?"

"J-Jimmy? Well yes, but… were?"

There is another moment of silence.

"He's gone overboard." The Captain says finally, and there is a look of true sadness in her eyes that Emily has not seen before.

"Oh." Emily replies, because she can think of little else to say. She's not entirely sure why the Captain would pull her aside just to tell her this; she would have found out eventually.

"I'm telling you this because I'll need another first mate eventually, you see." The Captain speaks slowly, and Emily gets the impression that she is still thinking over what she's saying even as she says it.

"Well, yes, but…" She trails off as it slowly dawns on her what the Captain might be suggesting. "What do you mean? A-are you considering me, Captain?"

"Yes." Anamaria replies, her tone now matter of fact.

"F-forgive me Captain, but I am hardly… there are other men on the ship who are much more…"

"I know that, but I am not offering this to them. I am offering it to you."

"The crew will never listen to anything I say."

"You will have to earn their respect, then, they will listen if you give them reason to. Do you think it was easy for me to gather a crew in the first place?"

"I am not my parents, you know, I'm not…"

"You chose to come out here, did you not?" The Captain's tone turns a bit harsh. "If you want to be a pirate, girl, then I would suggest you start acting like one. I am asking you to be my first mate. You'll get the cabin next to mine here. It's small, but you won't have to stay with Adrienne and the boy anymore, I know you're not too fond of her. And you'll get a larger cut of the profit we make. You'll no longer have to do such duties as swabbing the decks. You could give that job to Adrienne for all I care." Anamaria pauses for the briefest of moments before going on again. "And if, by some chance, anything happens to me, this ship will be yours."

Emily listens quietly, and she can't deny that what her Captain is offering her is not a bad deal. But she gets the feeling there is more to it all, a bigger picture that she's not seeing.

The more she thinks about it, though, the more she realizes that she'd have to be an utter fool to say no.

"Well?" Anamaria asks, rather impatiently.

"The answers yes, Captain, of course. How could I say no?"

* * *

><p>The <em>Sea's Queen<em> limps back in to Tortuga, a little the worse for wear but repairable, and Emily ultimately winds up back at the Good Goddess with her books.

She still hasn't seen much of Alex, and it's beginning to annoy her. It's almost as if he is avoiding her on purpose.

* * *

><p>It's always strange, hearing stories about her parents, told in the form of legends that are probably only half true. It frustrates her sometimes, because she knows the truth behind them, has been told the <em>real <em>stories a million times by the very people they are about.

She finds, however, that it is even stranger to open a book, a proper, leather bound book, and find that the stories are being retold inside it. The _real _stories, that is, with probably only a few wrong details. Much, much stranger, because who else would know so well about all of it?

Who knew that would write a _book _about it?

She flips through the pages, looking for any sign of an author, and finally finds…

"L. Norrington." She mumbles to herself. Where has she heard that name before? The answer escapes her in her excitement over the book and its contents.

Alex. She has to show Alex.

* * *

><p>She's heading towards the Faithful Bride, because she knows there's an inn not far from it, and that's where Alex would probably stay. She makes her way in, slips the inn keeper a few coins so he'll point her to where the 'tall, skinny lad with dark hair is staying', walks the few steps down the hallway to stand in front of his door, and knocks.<p>

And waits.

And knocks again.

And waits some more, but this time she hears movement from within.

And when the door finally opens she wishes she'd just stayed in her cabin and kept reading.

"What is it…" Alex trails off when he sees her.

He's standing in the door way with pants on – and nothing else. She is frozen for a moment as her eyes slide over his strong, tanned arms, bare chest, and the paler skin of his stomach with the hint of muscle rippling beneath it.

He is frozen as well, looking shocked, as though he hadn't expected to see her when he opened the door. Which, he probably hadn't.

She looks back up to him after a moment, a blush creeping its way up her neck and heating her cheeks.

"A-Alex. Hi. Erm, I just wanted to… what was it I wanted?" Her brows furrow as her mind goes blank.

The shocked look on his face fades to amusement as she stutters her way through her thoughts.

"Oh, right!" She goes on, holding up the book still clutched in her hands. "I was just going to show you..."

"_Alex, is that Emily?"_

Oh, Goddess, no. Emily's cheeks grow even redder as she is caught between embarrassment and anger.

That was Adrienne's voice she just heard.

"O-oh. I-I…" She is speechless.

Alex's eyes widen a bit.

"Emily, I…"

"No. It's alright. Y-you're busy. I'm sorry, I shouldn't've… I'll leave you two alone then, you obviously have much better things to be doing than looking at a silly little book."

She turns and begins to head back down the hallway.

"Emily wait!" Alex calls.

She ignores him.

* * *

><p>Storming out of the inn and back onto the wild streets of Tortuga, her first thought is to go back to the Good Goddess and curl up in the room she's taken and never, ever come out again.<p>

Her second thought is to take out her pistol, go back to the inn, and make Adrienne bite the bullet – literally. She actually turns around, reaching for her pistol at this idea, but fortunately saner heads prevail on this one and she forces herself to take a calming breath. After all, she makes herself keep in mind, Alex was old enough to be considered a man now, and if it hadn't been Adrienne he could very well have chosen any other woman around.

She winds up going back to the Good Goddess, but when she gets there she can't seem to rest. She tries to read more of what was in the book she'd been planning to show Alex, but finally winds up tucking it back into her bag.

Before she's even aware that she's made the decision she is headed back out of the Goddess, towards the Faithful Bride. She can't remember seeing the _Black Pearl_ down at the docks, but then she hadn't been paying that much attention this time around, and maybe – if she is very, very lucky – her Uncle Jack will still be around.

She is very lucky apparently, though she doesn't feel as though she is. Her Uncle is sitting off in the corner where'd they had talked days earlier, in the company of a young woman, and it is obvious his thoughts are on the same thing Alex's apparently were on.

Huh, she thinks sarcastically, like father like son. How _sweet._

She makes her way over to him anyways.

"Uncle…"

"Emily?"

"Is that a girl?" The woman sitting in his lap asks.

Emily gives her a strange look.

"Oi! What manner question is that to ask, love?" Her Uncle asks the woman.

"A logical one, ye ask me, she's dressed like a boy."

"Aye, but she 'ardly _sounds _like one."

"That don't mean much. She don't look very girly, you ask me."

"No one did." Jack replies, and he sounds annoyed. He pushes the woman off his lap and she turns to him, looking indignant. "Off ye go, love, I've got someone much more important to be talking to."

The woman brings a hand up to slap him. Emily, having had about enough of this woman already, boldly reaches out a hand and grasps the woman's wrist before she can. The woman looks shocked and tries to pull away but, to Emily's surprise as much as hers, Emily is too strong for it to be that simple.

"He said go away, wench." Emily tells her, and she doesn't recognize the mean tone to her own voice.

The woman tries to jerk her hand away again, and Emily lets go this time, watching as she storms off.

"Well." Her Uncle says, watching his lady friend retreat as well, and he sounds amused more than anything else, not unusual for him. "What's put ye in so foul a mood?"

She thinks of Alex, standing in the door way to the room at the inn, shirtless, Adrienne somewhere in the room behind him. Emily wasn't stupid, and she certainly wasn't a little girl anymore, she knew what they were doing in there, and goddess, did she wish she was Adrienne.

But then, she wouldn't be as willing as Adrienne. She'd be telling him to slow down, blushing like mad, acting like she _was _still that little girl.

All the anger drains out of her suddenly and she collapses into a chair across from her Uncle.

"I think I've lost, Uncle."

"Lost? Lost what, dearie?" He sounds worried now.

"I missed that moment you were talking about and now I think I've lost him."

"Lost who, me boy? What 'appened, Emily."

She explains it to him, all of it, about Adrienne and how all around awful she could be, about how she'd been moving in on Alex, and how Emily had let her because Alex seemed to like Adrienne. She hadn't thought they would end up, well, like they obviously had.

Her Uncle sits and listens quite intently, just watching her.

"I can't believe I was stupid enough to think he'd be any different than any other man." She finishes finally, sounding defeated, not angry, and her Uncle continues to study her quietly for a moment.

Then, suddenly he gets up, mumbling that he'll be right back, and walks off. She watches him go, a bit bewildered, until he comes back holding two mugs, presumably full of rum.

She takes the one he offers her and drinks from it on some strange impulse. It burns its way down her throat, and she doesn't mind the feeling at the same time that she curses it. It lets her know that she is not dreaming or having some sort of vision, as she has wondered a few times now if she is, and she can't quite decide whether this is a good thing or not.

"Now, listen to me, Emily." Her Uncle says, and she can tell by his tone he is serious. "I told ye that ye were all me boy talked about when he was on the _Pearl _with me. He fancied ye, and real feelins don't just go away, not ever." He speaks as if he knows, and she wonders suddenly whether he has ever really loved someone. He had to have at some point, she supposes.

"If he fancies me, then why would he do this? Don't be silly, Uncle."

"I'm not bein silly!" Jack replies firmly. "The other night when 'e was 'ere with this lass of 'is, he gave ye the chance to say somethin, and ye didn't. I told ye, didn't I? Ye might as well 'ave given 'im permission to do whatever 'e wanted with this Adrienne!"

"Well, what do you suggest I do now, then?" She replies, starting to feel exasperated.

"Take what you can, give nothin back, ye've 'eard me say that before, aye?"

She only nods, still feeling a bit confused, and it shows on her face.

"Well! If you want Alex, go get Alex! For 'eavens sake, what's stoppin ye?"

"But I can't just… I mean, he's…and Adrienne's…" She tries several times to come up with a reason why she can't do as her Uncle says, figuring that there surely must be one, but she can think of nothing.

He waits patiently as she stares down at the mug in front of her, mulling all this over in her head. She takes it after a moment and drinks from it again on that same strange impulse, the unexplainable impulse to do something _bad._ Or, at least, what counted as bad for her.

Finally she looks back up to her Uncle.

"If I want Alex…"

He gestures with his hands for her to 'shoo'.

"Then go on and get 'im, with my blessin to boot. Sounds like ye'd be much better company for him to be keepin than this wench of 'is."

"Uncle. Thank you."

"If you're in a better mood when next I see ye, that'll be plenty thanks enough. Shoo!"

She grabs her rum and brings it to her lips, takes one last hearty sip, and quickly leaves. She heads quickly towards the inn Alex is staying at in the hopes that she won't lose whatever courage she's just managed to build up before she gets there.

* * *

><p>Alex is quite sure that this just isn't fair. At all. Why couldn't Emily just make things simple? He knew she didn't like Adrienne, but he'd never once thought that the rivalry between the two could have anything to do with <em>him<em>. As flattering as that was, it just seemed ridiculous. If Emily had wanted… all she'd had to do was tell him!

The look on her face, standing there in the hallway… he'd rather die a horrible death than cause such a look to cross her face again. He really would. He couldn't stand the idea of hurting her.

Adrienne, on the other hand…

She'd gotten annoyed when he began dressing himself, planning to go after Emily. She'd had the nerve to tell him that Emily wasn't worth it.

So, he'd told her to go find someone else with a heart as cold as hers to complain to. And she had. Granted she'd paused to slap him first, hard, right across the face. But she had gone and now he was alone and he had no idea where Emily would be and he was worried she'd hate him now and it just wasn't fair.

All of these thoughts are still swimming around in his head when he hears someone knocking at the door again.

He gets up rather confused, wondering who else could possibly want to talk to him and hoping that things aren't about to get worse somehow. He opens the door and…

…and, to his shock, is greeted with a pair of soft, plump lips smashing into his own.

It takes him a moment to realize just who it is that is kissing him. When he does, he pushes her away gently and just stares at her, breathless and a little lost as far as what to say.

"E-Emily?" is all he can manage to get out. Huh. Brilliant.

She gives him a small smile.

"Hello Alex."

They stare at each other for a moment.

"A-Adrienne's gone, ye can come in." Alex finally says in a quiet voice. She slips into the room and he closes the door.

"About earlier…" He begins.

"It's alright. Well, I mean, it's not _alright_, but I'm not upset. Anymore, I mean."

"Ye're not? Because I wouldn't blame ye if ye were, honestly, I wouldn't, I just wish ye'd told me…"

"Alex." She pulls him closer by the lapels of his vest. "Shut it. I know I should've said something. I am saying something." She places another little kiss on his lips. "This would be me _saying something_."

He glances down towards her hands, and she doesn't seem like herself, he's not used to Emily being this bold.

She's pulled him in so they are only inches apart, and he smells… is that a hint of rum he smells on her breath?

That would explain a lot.

"Emily Turner?" He says, mock scolding her. "Have you been drinkin, love?"

She grins at him, and he can't quite place why.

* * *

><p>She grins at him, and she knows it's a bit silly, but he called her 'love', and her heart sores at the sound of the familiar endearment rolling off his tongue now that Adrienne is nowhere in sight.<p>

Oh, yes, he'd asked her a question. She supposes he smells it on her breath.

Perhaps she shouldn't have taken that last sip. She's beginning to feel a tad light headed.

"Maybe a little, do you have a problem with that, Alex Sparrow?"

"Well, it's hardly for me to say… I mean, it's just not like ye, that's all."

She smiles playfully.

"Perhaps I've decided that being me is no fun. Perhaps it's time for a change."

"Change?"

She grins in response.

"You know, about what you said earlier... I think it's about time for you to _say something _back." And she brings her lips to his again.

She only half knows what she's doing, but Alex soon proves that he's done more than enough kissing to take over form there, more than he's done with Adrienne just tonight most probably, but she doesn't linger on that thought. She parts her lips when he does his, licking hers with his tongue, and he isn't shy about deepening their kiss as they back up towards the bed at one end of the room. She isn't shy about letting him. Not shy at all, in fact she lets her hands trail down to begin unbuttoning his vest.

He pulls away, the kiss leaving them both gasping for breath, and he stops her hands just as she manages to undo a measly two buttons.

"Emily, wait, stop, please."

"What, why?"

"W-why? Because… I mean, I just..in here..with Adrienne..and I can smell the rum on yer breath, this isn't ye! Emily, stop!" He pulls her hands away a bit more forcefully as she starts to un-tuck his shirt.

She begins to feel frustrated.

"I thought this is what you'd want!"

"What? No! I mean, not with ye, ye're…"

"I'm what?"

"Not Adrienne." He replies feebly. "Ye're nothing like Adrienne."

She tries to back away a few steps then, but runs into the bed, and somehow winds up sitting down on it.

"Not as good as her, you mean?"

"No!" He says, coming forward to kneel in front of her. "That's not what I meant either, ye're _better _than her." He gazes up into her eyes and seems to beg her to understand what he is trying to say.

"Then why did you…"

"She all but asked me out loud... Ye've told me how dumb boys are, what's the point in me makin an excuse?"

She slaps him then, hard. He rubs his cheek, casts his eyes downward.

"That's the second time tonight I've been slapped by a pretty girl. Guess I deserve it."

"Course you do." She replies, pauses, sighs. "But I forgive you."

He slowly looks back up to her, his eyes sparkling.

"Ye do?"

"Why would I have come back here if I was just going to stay mad at you?"

He relaxes visibly at this and moves to sit next to her on the bed, wrapping his arms around her. She leans in to rest against him, and it feels so natural to be this close to him that she's wondering why she'd never noticed before.

A few moments of silence pass before he speaks up again, gently pulling away to look at her.

"I'm sorry, I just remembered, ye had something ye wanted to tell me. Something about that book ye had."

"Oh! Of course! It's back in my room at the Goddess, I'll go…" She stands and the light headed feeling comes back again, nothing she can't handle she is sure, but Alex notices her pause.

"I think, perhaps, that's not the best idea, maybe ye should just stay here." He pulls her gently back to sit beside him.

"All night."

"Aye."

"With you."

"Aye."

"And just one bed."

"Emily, ye were all set to get it in with me just a few moments ago, and now all I'm suggestin ye to do is sleep!"

She shrugs and blushes, and he shakes his head.

"Why must ye be so confusin?" He stands and slips off her boots for her, then helps her slid off her coat. Then he takes her belt, sword, and pistol and sets them aside, where his are sitting on a chair in the corner of the room.

She can't deny that she is beginning to just feel tired now, so she slips into the bed, and she forgets sometimes how nice an actual bed feels compared to her little hammock.

She remembers, off handedly, that she'll have a bed of her own now. In the cabin next to her Captain's. As first mate. She hadn't told Alex that yet. She'll have to do that. Tomorrow. When she's had some sleep.

She's just tired. She refuses to acknowledge that the mild fuzziness surrounding her thoughts is because of what little rum she'd had.

Alex slips in next to her after a moment and leans in to place a kiss on her lips, nothing like the ones they'd shared earlier; this one is gentle and sweet.

"Good night, Emily." He murmurs before turning to blow out the candle on the small table next to the bed.

He tries to give her some space, situating himself as far away from her as he can on the rather small bed, lying on his back. She moves closer to him and snuggles up to him, taking his arm and hugging it to her as she lays her head near his shoulder.

"Good night, Alex." She replies before closing her eyes and drifting off to sleep.

_**Ok, super, super long chapter, but I got a lot done in this one, so that's ok. A little bit of fluff between Emily and Alex, hope you liked that.**_

_**Reviews are always much appreciated – less and less people seem to be reading this crazy story, and I'm beginning to worry if it's maybe not as good as it was at the beginning. I'm hoping to pick up the pace now, though, so stay with me. :)**_


	33. Sweet Dreams and Secrets

Calypso smiles down at Emily and Alex, sleeping peacefully together in his little room at the inn. This part of her plan, at least, has been quite easy to put together. The next steps will not be nearly as simple, and Emily will need a close friend like Alex more than ever in order to come out on top.

One year is so short a stretch for mortals. Emily has a lot of growing up to do in a very short amount of time.

But she was getting ahead of herself. Before anything else could happen, Emily needed to be reminded of a few things about her father. After all, the goddess had long since come to realize, few things motivated any being, and mortals in particular, like revenge did.

Unfortunately for Emily, that meant things were about to get complicated.

* * *

><p>The cabin looks just as it did before her father left. There is a fire burning bright in the area where her papa works; his tools are laid out as though he has just been working on something. Her papa is nowhere in sight though.<p>

Emily freezes for a moment, looking around, trying to place the feeling in her gut. She is used to things feeling a bit offin dreams, but this is different.

There is no one around, save for her. This is what gets to her first. Her visions always involve others, usually many others, but as far as she can tell she is alone. For the moment anyways.

She walks further into her papa's work area, notices the handle of an unfinished sword resting in the fire pit, picks up the hammer where it lays out of place on his work table. The whole scene looks so _normal_, as if her papa had simply been called away for some reason, would be back in a moment. And yet still there was that feeling that something about this whole place wasn't _right_.

Wait a minute. She just picked up the hammer. In her visions she is a ghost, unable to do or say anything, simply observing.

So – this is _real_?

"W-who?" A familiar deep baritone half whispers from somewhere behind her.

She whirls around and draws her sword, pointing it at the tall and rather thin figure before her.

He freezes where he is and glances down at her sword. All is silent for one tense moment, and then realization dawns on his face and he begins to move forward again.

"You can't kill me." He says.

"Can't I?" Emily asks, though for all she knows he's right. "My sword is real enough. Who are you?"

"You can't kill me because I am already dead. Don't you know where we are?"

"I suppose we're in White Bird Bay*, where I grew up."

"Do you know that for certain?"

"Yes I'm certain, I know this cabin like the back of my own hand. W-who are you?" She is becoming more unnerved by the man in front of her with each word that passes his lips.

"Will Turner." He answers simply, calmly.

"No. No, you're not. He died." She is beginning to get angry now.

"Yes. Yes, I did, which is why you can't kill me. We're in – well, everyone knows it as Davy Jones Locker, but since he's hardly the one in charge of it anymore, I'm not sure what to call it. 'Hell' would work nicely. You're very much alive, though, aren't you? Perhaps you should put the sword away, girl, you're more likely to hurt yourself with it then me."

Emily does lower her sword, feeling dumbstruck.

"You certainly sound like, well, you. I suppose you can only be telling the truth. Don't you recognize me?"

He shakes his head a bit, then seems to study her, and realization slowly dawns on his face.

"This is the sword you made me, I never go anywhere without it." She holds up the sword in her hands. "And I'm quite capable with it, thank you." She twirls it skillfully a few times. "Practiced three hours a day."

He comes towards her now, his expression an unreadable mix of emotions. And then, so suddenly she has little time to react beforehand, he has his arms wrapped around her, holding her tightly. Her sword crashes to the floor beneath them and she wraps her arms back around him, any anger that she could be feeling melting away, because this is her papa and she has missed him more than she can express in words.

They stay that way for what could be hours for all they know. He pulls away finally and seems to study her for a moment, a grin slowly spreading across his face.

"How long has it been? You were only twelve!"

Emily wipes away the single tear that makes its way down her cheek.

"Five years. I'm seventeen, now, Papa."

"My Emily. Just look at you! You're all grown!" His grin fades as he looks down and seems to take note of how she is dressed. "Oh. Emily…"

"Papa, please, don't be angry with me, I don't know how much time we have…"

"Angry?" He looks shocked. "I could never be angry with you!" He pauses. "Though it would taste a lie to say I'm not a bit disappointed. I'm sorry. I'd hoped you'd find something better for yourself, I really did, but I suppose I didn't leave you with too many choices." He chuckles softly. "And you are your mother's daughter, aren't you?"

"Oh, but I'm alright, Papa, really, I am!" She says, because she has a strong feeling he doesn't need anything more to feel guilty about. "I'm Anamaria's first mate, now, and I have Alex." And she grins as her lips tingle at the memory of his kisses.

"First mate on Ana's ship. I'm not at all surprised. I knew you two would get along famously if you met, and you learn so fast, it was only a matter of time." His smile fades. "I only wish you could tell me more. You'll be going back soon, won't you?"

Emily can distinctly feel that this is true, and it doesn't seem fair, it really doesn't. Her goddess has shown her glimpses of how the Locker works, very brief glimpses, but enough that she does not believe her papa deserves this. She can't think of anyone who truly _would, _really.

And just like that any resentment she'd been feeling towards her father vanishes.

"Yes." She replies finally. "Yes, I will. Oh, Papa, I don't want to leave you!" She throws her arms around him this time, and he hugs her tightly again.

"I know."

"This is wrong. This whole thing…you shouldn't be here."

He freezes at this, and perhaps it's something in the tone of her voice that tips him off. He pulls back again to look her in the eye.

"Emily. Don't. I brought this on myself."

"No, no one deserves this, certainly not you. I could fix this."

"No, don't. Don't do that, Emily, don't even think about it."

"Why not? You know I could! You brought Uncle Jack back –"

"That was different, very different, no one needs me around –"

"There's no reason I can't do the same with you, _I _need you around, and so does Joshy –"

"But your mother –"

"That sea hag is _not _my mother –"

"You don't have a ship –"

"Anamaria trusts me enough to make me her first mate, she'll be more than willing to listen to me –"

"Emily!" He yells, and it reminds her of when she was just a little girl and they would argue. "Leave it alone!"

But she is no longer a little girl.

"No!" She yells back. He looks shocked. "I won't! Someone has to fix all of this! First I'm going to find a way to get _my_ mother back, and then I'm going to get you out of here. I swear it, papa, I'll find a way."

Time's up now, Emily can feel her goddess pulling her back to the world of the living, back into Alex's arms. She wants to stay longer. She really, truly does. But she doesn't fight it because now there is work to be done.

"Emily, please. You don't have to do this."

"I don't care whether I have to or not." She replies. She picks up her sword, sheaths it, leans in to place a kiss on her papa's cheek…

* * *

><p>"Emily? Emily? Wake up, love."<p>

For a moment she isn't sure of exactly where she is.

She groans, keeping her eyes closed, trying to get her bearings.

She feels Alex's lips press lightly against hers and she smiles before allowing her eyes to flutter open, wincing only a little at the mild ache in her head. Thankfully the room has no windows and is dimly lit, even though it is probably day time by now.

"Good morning." She says quietly and Alex returns her smile.

"G'mornin."

She sits up and tries to sort through all that's happened in the past day and while she was sleeping. Reading the strange book. Talking to her Uncle. Coming back to see Alex.

There was a little bit of rum in there somewhere, probably where the ache in her head came from, she isn't used to drinking spirits.

Oh, and there was kissing too. A smile tugs at her lips again.

"How are ye feelin?" Alex asks her.

"Good. Great! I mean… of course I'm alright, waking up to you." She smiles and blushes and Alex chuckles.

"Ye're cute when ye're cheeks go turnin all red like that."

She only blushes harder, if that's possible.

"Come on, get up. We don't sail until tomorrow mornin. I thought we could explore this place a bit. Doesn't seem 'alf as bad in the day time."

Wait a minute.

"The ship!" Emily exclaims, jumping out of the bed and tugging on her boots.

"What?" Alex watches her blankly.

"I have to get down to the docks. Captain wanted me to help with the ship."

"Cap'n told me and Adrienne she had enough hands to help with that…"

"Aye, but she wanted me down there too, suppose it makes sense."

"Why?"

"Well, she did make me first mate and…" She stops short just as she finishes strapping on her belt. "Oh. Right. I was going to tell you."

"She..made ye..all the able bodied crewmen on board, and she picks _ye_ to be first mate?"

"Oh, I was surprised too, believe me." Emily grimaces. "Do you have some sort of _problem _with the idea." She glares at him, crossing her arms.

He knows better than to mess with her when she gives him the look that she is.

"No, course not love, no problem at all." He answers her quickly.

"Good." She says simply.

"Suppose I'll tag along with ye. I stay here too long and Adrienne might come lookin for me." He grimaces at the thought.

"Oh, right, Adrienne." Emily responds, picking up her pistol and inspecting it. "Knew this would come in handy for something."

Alex raises his eyebrows, eyeing the pistol, and it always looks rather strange in her small, delicate hands. At least, he thinks it does.

"Bit drastic don't ye think."

"No, not really." She puts the pistol away and heads out of the room.

"Well, I'll just be good and sure to stay well out of yer way then…"

* * *

><p>"About time, Miss Turner." Her Captain calls to her from the quarter deck just moments after she makes it on board. Alex leans in and, in plain sight of the Captain and the many other crewmen on deck, places a sweet little kiss on her lips. Emily grins and blushes lightly before crossing the deck and making her way up to Anamaria. "I went to wake you at the Goddess this morning. It appears you weren't even there." The Captain casts a glance in Alex's direction.<p>

Emily tries not to smile.

"I'm sorry, Captain."

"Oh, don't bother with that, it's hardly any of my business who you go spending your nights with." Anamaria replies with a wicked smile before switching to a more captain-like tone of voice. "Now, I need you to do something for me. You know that little book shop you've been spending so much time at?"

"Aye, Captain."

"The owner has something for me, and I'd like you to go and get it." The Captain takes out a coin purse and hands it to Emily. "That should be more than enough to pay him for it."

Emily slips the coin purse into a pocket.

"And Emily, this is very important. I need you not to look at the parcel he'll hand you, understand?"

Emily shrugs, and although she is more than curious about it now, she also trusts her Captain enough not to ask.

"Aye Captain, I understand."

* * *

><p>"Now where are you going?"<p>

"Captain has an errand for me." She replies to Alex off handedly, eyes scanning the docks. "Do you remember seeing the _Pearl _here when we came in?"

"No. Why?"

"Uncle Jack apparently isn't on it. I talked to him just last night."

"And this surprises you? Dad never manages to 'ang on to his precious _Pearl. _Everybody knows that."

"It's been his ship for as long as I can remember."

"Are ye actually _worried _about 'im?" Alex chuckles. "Or didn't yer papa ever tell ye 'bout us Sparrow's and 'ow we have a knack for poppin back up. Like bad pennies. I'm sure dear ole dad'll be back to gettin under Barbossa's skin in no time, assumin Barbossa's the one who took the stupid ship."

"I don't know who else _would_ dare to take it. And I think everyone deserves to have _someone _who's willing to worry about them a little."

"You worry about everyone _but_ yerself, seems kind of backwards for a pirate, dunnit?"

She decides not to grace that with a response.

* * *

><p>The item Emily retrieves from the clerk at the book shop is long and circular, as if whatever it is, is rolled up inside the bag it's hidden in. She is sorely tempted to take a peek at it to spite what her Captain told her, and really, she probably could. It's not like Anamaria would know if she did.<p>

She decides not to, thinking that her Captain must have had a good reason for not wanting Emily to look.

* * *

><p>They set sail the next day, as early as the Captain can manage to get the crew up, and she seems to have an actual destination in mind. She tells Emily to take the helm, giving her an actual, specific heading, and Emily finds herself a little excited by it.<p>

Adrienne is sure to avoid Emily like the plague, staying – or perhaps hiding, more like – down in the galley. Emily wonders if Adrienne is really afraid of her in some way; the idea gives her a strange feeling of satisfaction.

They've been sailing for about four days when Emily finally thinks to ask the Captain about exactly where they are headed.

"You ever been to Shipwreck Cove?" Is her Captain's response.

"No, Captain. I heard enough about it from Papa, though. He used to love telling me about how mother wound up the Pirate King."

"It's an interesting place, I'll tell you that much. I don't guess Will ever mentioned a man named Teague when telling you these stories?"

"He did a few times. Keeper of the Pirate's Code, right?"

"Aye, among other things. He's who I want to see."

"And why is that?" Emily asks, and she doesn't think there is anything wrong with the question until Anamaria's eyes harden almost angrily.

"None of your business, Miss Turner."

Emily is so startled by the sudden change in her Captain's tone that she is left speechless for several awkward moments.

"Right." She finally replies. "Sorry, Captain."

She stands and leaves the Captain's cabin without another word. It doesn't strike her until much, much later, when she is lying in bed, that her Captain may have over reacted a little.

First the mysterious item that she wasn't allowed to look at, and now this.

Just what was the older woman not telling her, anyways?

* * *

><p><em><strong>And I'm going to stop it there for now. <strong>_

_**It's been less than a month, and I already have another chapter for you. *gasp!* Be amazed, people, be amazed. **_

_**Thanks to**_ AngieRosie _**for reviewing!**_

_***I made up the name of the place where Emily grew up. I know I probably could have found a real place... but I get lazy sometimes and just didn't feel like it. :D**_


	34. Bad Dreams and Wine

Well, Shipwreck Cove certainly was _interesting._ Actually, Emily wasn't quite sure what to think of the pirate fortress. In truth, she wasn't half as curious about the place itself – though it was quite a curious thing to behold. She was more interested in what they were doing there. Anamaria still wouldn't tell her anything other than they were there to see Teague.

To make matters more _curious_, the Captain had dressed in her best, a simple dress with nothing to it, but still much more presentable for a woman than trousers. Apparently Ana wanted to look her best when seeing Captain Teague.

To make matters _worse_, the Captain ordered everyone to stay on the ship, and told Emily to make sure they did as she'd ordered them.

"Ye got any idea what's goin on 'ere?" Alex asked her as they watched the Captain go ashore.

"What makes you think I'd know?" Emily grumbled.

"Ye said she' made ye first mate. Figured maybe she'd told ye."

"I know who she's going to see."

"Captain Teague?"

Emily only nodded.

"He's me granddad ye know."

She turned to him now, surprised.

"He is? How do you know?"

"I've met 'im. I was still sailin with dad and…"

* * *

><p>"Miss Ana." Captain Teague stands from where he is seated as Anamaria is ushered into his study, setting aside the guitar he'd been strumming.<p>

Anamaria grins in response.

"It's Captain now, actually, sir."

"Ah, I see. Well then, Captain, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

Anamaria takes out the item she's had hidden beneath her vest.

"See for yourself."

He takes it from her and slowly slides it out of the bag that it is encased in. A hint of excitement sparks in his old eyes as he glances back up at her. He crosses the room to a table and unfurls the item, and she comes to stand next to him. He studies it closely for several moments before looking up to her.

"So, then, you're headed for…"

"Aye. That's why I came here. I am no fool." He turns back to study the item, still spread out on the table, and she goes on a little more hesitantly. "Can you help me?"

"Tell me more about this ship of yours." He asks her seemingly out of nowhere.

"My ship? Not very big, but she's served me well so far. Tough little ship."

"And your crew?"

"Picked them up from Tortuga, of course, but they've been with me for two years now. I like to think they're loyal enough. I've sailed with worse. Much worse." She pauses a moment. "I've a few younger ones with me too. Girl named Emily Turner, and your grandson. Alex."

He doesn't answer immediately and seems to be thinking.

"Turner. The King's daughter?" He finally asks.

Anamaria nods.

"Few know that much of her yet, though."

"They will. It's only a matter of time. I don't envy her the things she'll have to square with once that happens. Does she know of your plans?"

"No."

"And why not? You've heard the stories, else you wouldn't be here with that," he points to the item on the table.

"I wanted to be sure there's some truth to them before I get her hopes up. Like I said, I'm no fool."

He smiles.

"That you aren't. I'll tell you what I know, but first I ask that you tell me more of my boy and his son. I see so little of them, see, I can't help but to ask."

Ana takes the seat he offers her and tries not to let any of her annoyance show.

"I haven't seen much of Jack. Your grandson, though…"

* * *

><p>This time her dream centers around someone that she has only ever met a few times when she was very young, but she would recognize him anywhere just the same.<p>

The vision is not a very long one; it shows her only what is necessary. The _Black Pearl _is attacked by a very large ship. A very large, rather _frightening_ ship. She's not sure whose ship it is or what the ship's name is. She wonders whether this really is just a strange dream when the ropes begin moving like snakes…

But no, it must be a vision, because she could never have dreamed up a ship such as the one attacking the _Pearl._

For the most part the vision centers on one Hector Barbossa.

Emily watches as one of the ropes snakes out and twists around his leg and… she turns away at this point, because she has a feeling she knows what's coming next when he takes his sword out. Somehow she knows the rope isn't the thing he's going to try and cut.

She turns to look out at the other ship and catches a glimpse of the lettering on the front, just a glimpse, only the words 'Queen Anne's', but really that's all she needs.

She read a book about famous pirates just the other day, and her mind automatically finishes the inscription on the front of the ship. Revenge. _Queen Anne's Revenge. _

She continues to stare at the other ship in equal parts wonder, excitement, and horror as the world around her begins to fade away and then she is in her bed again, staring up at the ceiling.

Apparently, it is a very, _very_ good thing her Uncle is not on the _Pearl _after all.

* * *

><p>"Calm down, ye said me father wasn't on it, why are ye so panicked?"<p>

"Why?" Emily exclaims in response, and Alex's shushes her yet again. The crew is asleep bellows decks by now. "Why am I so panicked?" She repeats, hushing her tone while keeping it no less urgent. "I read a book about that ship just the other day!"

"Oh, ye and yer books. Maybe reading isn't such a good idea for ye."

"Will you just listen! That's Blackbeard's ship I just saw in my vision, and that had to have happened recently! Why would my goddess even show me that unless it was important somehow?"

"I don't know! With all the visions ye get, I wonder 'ow the goddess even expects ye to keep up!"

"Neither do I." Emily admits with a sigh. "I'm getting to the point where I _can't_ keep up. She's shown me things about the Company and the Admiral, then things about my mother, then she lets me talk to my papa, now Blackbeard… this is getting ridiculous." She walks over to the steps leading up to the quarter deck and sits down. "I wish she would just talk to me herself. I mean, she's done it before."

"I think she just likes watchin ye get all confused like this. Probably gets some sort of perverse pleasure out of it."

"Ok, not helping, Alex. My goddess isn't like that, and you know it."

"I don't know _'ow _to 'elp. Would if I could. Why don't ye just go back to bed and talk to the Cap'n when she comes back tomorrow?"

"Can't. Never can sleep after I've had a vision. You can go back to sleep if you'd like." She stands and crosses the deck and begins climbing the rigging up to the vacant crow's nest, her usual hiding spot on nights when she's had a vision.

She sits and stares out at the ocean for several minutes, lost in her thoughts as she tries to sort out what she's just been shown.

"Emily? Mind if I join ye, love?"

She is startled a little by Alex's voice coming from just below her.

"No, not at all."

A few more moments pass and then he is beside her, and it is perhaps a bit crowded with them both up there, but they don't mind.

"I thought you were going back to sleep?"

"I couldn't bring meself just leave ye 'ere alone." He smiles. "Besides, I brought ye something."

He produces a bottle that had been hidden beneath his shirt and hands it to her.

She races her eyebrows at him before looking down at the bottle. It's wine. Fancy French wine.

"Alex, where on earth?"

"Stole a bottle from the crates we sold in England all those months ago. I wasn't the only one."

"Right. Why?"

He shrugs.

"Never 'ad wine before. 'ave you?"

She shakes her head. She stares down at the bottle for a moment before attempting to pull the cork out with her fingers.

It doesn't work out so well. Alex chuckles.

"Ye're such a girl sometimes." He snatches the bottle and pulls out the cork with his teeth and she rolls her eyes.

"I _am _a girl, Alex."

"Well, I know that. Wish we 'ad glasses to drink this out of."

"I have some, in this chest in my cabin.* It was dusty when I opened it; I think it belonged to whoever the Captain probably stole this ship from. I found a whole bunch of stuff in there, even a fancy pistol. Anyways, I don't feel like going down to get them."

"S'just me an' you. Guess it doesn't matter." Alex hands Emily the bottle and she brings it to her lips hesitantly, taking a small sip.

* * *

><p>"Turner!" The Captain's voice just makes it up to Emily and Alex, both sound asleep in the crow's nest, her head on his shoulder. "Where have you gone off to, girl!"<p>

Emily's eyes flutter open and it takes her a moment to remember why she is in the crow's nest with two strong arms wrapped around her. Oh. She blushes as she tries to gently pull away from Alex. She hasn't got much room and this makes the task a bit more difficult than it needs to be.

Alex stirs and opens his eyes, staring blankly at her for a moment before quickly snatching his arms away.

"G'mornin, love." He smiles at her sheepishly.

"I slept!"

"What?" His brows furrow slightly.

"I slept! After a vision! I never sleep!"

He opens his mouth to say something, but doesn't get the chance to.

"Turner!" The Captain calls again, and Emily knows that's bad. Ana only ever takes to calling Emily 'Turner' if she is upset about something.

"Up here Captain! I'm coming!" She calls. She attempts to maneuver her way around Alex, manages it with much blushing, barely avoids knocking over the re-corked and half empty wine bottle. Finally makes it to the other side and begins climbing down the rigging quite nimbly – she's had lots of practice with it by now.

She hops down to the deck, spins around, and finds herself face to face with the Captain, who has a scowl on her face.

"I-I was just, um, I had a vision last night Captain –"

"You can come to my cabin and tell me about it later. Right now I want you…" She breaks off, looking passed Emily. Emily turns to see Alex has just made his way down from the crow's nest. "…take the helm. What the hell were you two doing up there?"

"I was telling him about my vision last night, Captain, that's all. He refused to leave me alone. We fell asleep."

"Ah. That was very kind of you, Sparrow, but I should think sharing such close quarters with each other is inappropriate. Even for us." She sends a pointed look in Alex's direction, then turns the same look on Emily before allowing it to melt back into a scowl. "Now get up to the helm, girl! We running short on time."

"Aye Captain." Emily turns towards the quarter deck, takes a few steps, turns back around. "I-If I may ask, Captain, why are we running short on time?"

"You may not ask, get going girl."

"Aye Captain." Emily repeats, shares a look with Alex, then turns to do as instructed.

* * *

><p><em><strong>A big, virtual cookie to anybody who can guess what this mysterious item of Anamaria's is. :) Some more sort of fluff for you. Sorry this chapter's a little shorter than my last few.<strong>_

_***I imagine the thing that Emily labels a 'chest' as being more like a smaller armoire. You can look that up on Google I suppose if you don't know what it is.**_

_**I've been reading through my earlier chapters and I realized a lot of stuff in them is annoyingly anachronistic, and I didn't even realize it when I wrote them. Oh well. Just another reason why I love, love, love fan fiction. **_

_**On a side note, I'm planning to go back to the beginning of this story and start correcting some of the annoying little errors I left behind the first time around. No significant changes I don't think, just letting you know cause I think the site sends you those chapter update messages when you replace chapters too. **_


	35. Mermaids, Sword Practice, and Rum, Oh My

**Disclaimer**: **Me: I own many wonderful things, including an epic poster of one Jack Sparrow -**

**Jack: Oi! That's Captain to ye!**

**Me: My apologies, _Captain_ Jack Sparrow, but I do not own Pirates of the Caribbean, or (unfortunately) our favorite Captain himself. So, on with the story...**

* * *

><p>"<em>No one is going to be killed! You're mad!" Emily has her pistol aimed at Adrienne; her hand is steady, her expression cold in a way that is unlike her, even as fear threatens to overwhelm her.<em>

_She has had more than enough of Adrienne, and it's showing._

"_Am I?" Adrienne asks, standing stiffly nearly the railing of the ship where Emily has backed her up. She speaks slowly, seeming to choose her words carefully. "You cannot tell me you haven't thought about this. About what is really going on. Unless, of course, the Captain has told you. She tells you everything now, no?"_

_Emily doesn't answer, contemplating what the other girl has just said. Adrienne smirks._

"_Ah, I knew it. You don't know what is going on here anymore than the rest of us do!"_

"_I'm sure the Captain has a good reason." Emily replies finally, sounding two times more certain that she feels._

"_And what might that be, hm? What if she is leading us into danger?"_

_Emily is reminded of the dream she's been having repeatedly for the past few nights. Adrienne has a point, and she knows it._

_She glances up and around, and the crew watching their exchange seems to be wavering. They are not stupid. They too can see that Adrienne has a point. However, none of them seem too inclined to intervene on her behalf, either._

_Emily trusts Ana, that is for certain. And Adrienne is really, really, really starting to make her angry._

_Stupid plan on Adrienne's part, ticking off the girl with the gun._

_Emily wonders where the Captain is, anyways. She is a bit perturbed, really, because by now Ana would no doubt have realized something was up, right?_

"_And we've all seen how snappy she's been with you." Adrienne goes on. "Why do you think she made you first mate, hmm? Probably because she knew you are a coward and would not go against her!"_

"_Stow it!" Emily snaps at that, her grip on the pistol tightening. "Just – just stop it!"_

_Adrienne eyes the pistol, as if just realizing it is there._

"_You wouldn't shoot me…"_

"_Wouldn't I?"_

_Adrienne doesn't answer, and Emily can see the fear in her eyes. For a moment, a brief moment, she does consider actually firing the pistol._

_Saner heads prevail, yet again. She's not sure she could kill like that. She has another idea, though._

"_Jump."_

"_What?" Adrienne seems startled. _

"_Jump. Or I'll shoot. Take your pick."_

_The men around them start to murmur a bit, a few speaking up._

"_But what about…"_

"_Maybe ye should…"_

"_Maybe we could…"_

"_Ye can't just…"_

"_She's talking mutiny, I'm first mate, Captain can't be bothered to come out and see what's happening, I'll do what I bloody well like." Emily responds, cocking the pistol. "Suppose you'll have a better chance of surviving if you jump, Adrienne?" Her tone is mocking this time._

_It's so strange, the look Adrienne gives her. The fear in her eyes subsides and she looks almost… almost approving of Emily's actions. But Emily has no time to think on it further, because Adrienne does indeed jump…_

* * *

><p><em>~Three weeks earlier…~<em>

"About yer visions. Are they usually of the future?" Alex sits himself next to Emily as she eats her breakfast.

"Often, yes. Why do you ask?"

"That vision you had about the _Pearl_ the other night, it can't have happened any time in the past several days."

"Why not?"

"Because the ship we took on yesterday – they were all talking about the _Black Pearl _and its latest ventures."

"Oh. Well. Makes the question of why I was shown that all the more pressing, does it not?"

Alex just shrugs.

"Just thought you'd find it interesting."

She does find it interesting, especially when figuring in the Captain's reaction to her dream when Emily finally got the chance to tell her about it. She'd very suddenly decided that they there was no rush anymore, and they'd since gone back to 'business as usual', as it were. Emily hadn't been the only one to notice how strange this all was. She's tried asking the Captain what is going on, on behalf the crew as much as for her own curiosity, but Ana still refuses to tell her.

She is beginning to wonder why the Captain had bothered with naming her first mate, anyways.

On the other hand, she's had more money as of late than she knows what to do with on her own, and is planning to send it off to her brother the next chance she gets.

"Emily? Emily, love, are ye even listenin to me?"

"What?" Emily turns to Alex, and he scowls at her.

"I asked if you'd seen much of Adrienne in the past few days. Just don't want ye two to go back to fightin –"

Adrienne comes by just as he says this, and it is a very strange coincidence indeed when she seems to spontaneously 'trip' and fall forward, causing the large bucket she is carrying to go flying – and the water inside it to soak Emily.

A very strange coincidence indeed. Either Alex is very, very bad luck, or Adrienne hasn't decided to leave well enough alone.

Emily rather thinks it is the latter.

* * *

><p>"Je suis une femme! Je refuse! Je ne veux pas!" Adrienne shrieks at Emily. They are in the galley, and Emily has just given her, with no small amount of satisfaction, a particularly grueling task for the day.<p>

With some help from little Charlie, who has begun teaching her what certain things meant, Emily ss beginning to understand French. To an extent. Although goddess knows she'd probably never be patient enough to learn how to speak it.

"Lady? Are you joking?"

"More of a lady than you are, that is for certain! Why don't _you _do it?"

"Because believe it or not, I have other things to do. _You _are good for little else besides cooking."

"Why should I be made to do anything else!"

"Because I said so!" Emily says, unable to think of a better reply, taking a step toward Adrienne and trying to appear threatening, if that's even possible.

A short staring contest ensues. Emily wins, and she isn't sure why Adrienne gives in so easily, but she certainly isn't complaining.

Adrienne glares at her, begins muttering French curses under her breath, picks up the bucket of water and the brush next to it, and stomps out of the galley.

"Emily." Alex asks some time later.

"Yes?"

"I have to ask…" He hesitates.

"What?" Emily asks.

"How exactly did you manage to trick Adrienne into scrubbin the deck?"

"What makes you think I _tricked _her?" Emily asks, sounding somewhat indignant.

"She would never have done it willingly. Ye didn't threaten her or something, did ye?"

"Alex!" Emily really sounds indignant now.

"I'm only askin! She's not like you, ye know." Alex blurts.

"Not like me." Emily narrows her eyes.

"I-I just mean she's, well, that she's… she's a girl! She doesn't handle workin on a ship so well to begin with! I know she dumped that water on ye yesterday, but…"

"Alex. _I'm _a girl. You act like you know her so well…"

"Well, suppose I ought to, we…" He trails off again, blushing. "Well, she's me friend."

She's giving him one of her looks now. Alex only shrugs sheepishly.

* * *

><p>"What are you <em>doing<em>?"

"What you just told me to do!"

"Why do _you_ want to learn how to use a _sword _anyways? I thought you were a 'lady'?" Emily attempts to mock Adrienne's accent on the last word, and Adrienne scowls at her.

"Well, being a lady does not seem to count for very much out here." Adrienne pauses, her shoulders slumping slightly, her voice softening. "It makes me nervous at times, being on a ship with so many men, and I tire of it. Since you do not seem to have a problem with it, I thought perhaps this," she holds up the light foil made for fencing practice, "would help."

"Oh." Emily replies. "I see." She pauses as the annoyance she's been feeling towards the other woman diminishes a bit – she could understand it, the way Adrienne was feeling. "Alright. Fine. Let's try again..."

* * *

><p><em>Beautiful creatures, they were, at least at first. Emily has never heard such beautiful singing.<em>

"My heart is pierced by cupid…"

_She could easily see how they drew people in._

"I disdain all glitter and gold…"

_It takes her a moment to realize that it is Alex sitting in the long boat, along with two others._

_She wonders whose stupid idea this will be, and hopes it isn't going to be Alex's. _

"There is nothing can console me…"

_She supposes she can't entirely blame Alex when he is the first to lean over the side of the boat, towards the creature, hoping for…for what? A kiss or something?_

"But my jolly sailor bold."

_He gets one, but Emily has no time to be jealous in anyway as the creature begins to pull him down into the water, and soon he is flailing, trying desperately to get away._

_She can't see what actually happens, as it takes place beneath the rippling waters, but that's ok because she hardly needs to. There is blood, and that is all she need see._

_Alex's blood…_

Emily wakes with a gasp, shooting up to a sitting position.

For the first time ever, she is more than certain of why she's been given her most recent vision. Whatever reasons the Captain would have for taking them to those awful creatures, Emily is to make sure it doesn't happen.

She just hopes her Captain will listen to her.

* * *

><p>"What, ye mean like <em>mermaids<em>?" Alex raises both eyebrows as she tells him about her dream the next morning.

"Huh. Hadn't even gotten far enough to put a name to them until now, actually. Mermaids. Suppose that is what they were – are – er, are going to be?"

"Are ye sure it was a vision? 'Cause it sounds perfectly mad to me."

"Oh yes, and I _know _things are bad when _you're _telling me _I'm_ mad."

"Oh, so he finally figured that out? I knew _that _from our first meeting." Adrienne's voice cuts in. She'd apparently been just passing them buy, on her way to clean up some other tables in the room they were in.

"I wasn't talking to you." Emily grumbles, turning to glare at her.

"I heard anyways. I simply had to say something." Adrienne smirks back at her.

"Don't you have something to go clean?" Emily asks – more like spits.

"Shouldn't you be out helping to repair that sail? We all know how you enjoy climbing the rigging like some sort of _singe_."

"Oi, I've 'eard that word before!" Alex says suddenly, looking a bit proud of himself. "Means monkey!"

Emily's glare turns even harsher; if looks could kill, Adrienne would surely have been long dead. It takes Alex a moment to catch up with this one.

"Oh. Oh! Emily, er, maybe we should…" He stands and grabs her arm, trying to tug her along gently.

She resists the urge to slap Adrienne and follows him out.

* * *

><p>"No! Please, don't!" Emily reaches for the little gold ring desperately, nearly sending herself over board in the process.<p>

"What? Such a silly little thing, cannot be that important?" Adrienne smirks.

Emily had nearly fallen from the rigging some time earlier. She had managed to catch herself, but not before she'd wound up upside down, and her mother's wedding ring, which she wore around her neck at all times, slipped off. It had landed on the deck below her, and Adrienne, well…

"N-no, you don't understand, I…" Emily has no time to get anything else out. Another crewman walks by and bumps into Adrienne, quite by accident, but causes more damage than he knows.

Adrienne is jerked forward and goes to catch herself on the railing of the ship, losing the ring in the process.

Emily almost dives in after it, but thinks better of that at the last minute. She watches instead, quite helpless, as the ring sinks into the water and is lost forever.

Then she rounds on Adrienne.

"That ring was my mother's wedding ring. My father wore it around his neck until the day he was taken and killed! It was all I really had of them!"

Adrienne's face is pale, and grows paler with each word that leaves Emily's mouth.

"Je suis désolé! It was an accident! I was not going to actually drop it! It was an accident!"

"Accident?" Emily shrieks. "It wouldn't have happened had you just given it back!"

"Je suis tellement désolé." Adrienne repeats. "I _am_ sorry."

Emily just shakes her head and brushes past Adrienne as she stalks towards her cabin.

* * *

><p>"<em>My heart is pierced by cupid…"<em>

The dream is exactly the same. Alex is in the long boat with some other men, the mermaid is singing.

"_I disdain all glitter and gold…"_

Alex is leaning over the side of the boat.

"_There is nothing can console me."_

Emily looks away, because she has no desire to watch this happen again.

"_But my jolly sailor bold."_

Emily wakes with a start and simply stares ahead for a moment, trying to get her bearings. This is the fourth time she's had that dream.

She decides to talk to the Captain as soon as she can.

* * *

><p>"Captain? May I come in?"<p>

Ana doesn't answer Emily immediately, and the long pause is slightly puzzling. Several moments pass before Ana finally opens her door and allows Emily in.

"What is it, Emily?"

"It's about these visions I've been having. Well, vision really."

"Just one?"

"Aye, several times over." Emily pauses, trying to figure out how to go on without sounding too far-fetched.

"Well, come on girl, out with it." Ana coaxes.

"Mermaids, Captain." Emily says finally. "I've been dreaming about mermaids. And they aren't very pleasant dreams, either."

"No, I don't suppose they would be."

Something about the tone of her voice sends off a warning for Emily.

"If I may ask, Captain…what do you know about them?"

"You shouldn't ask so many questions." Ana almost snaps at her, and Emily's eyes narrowed.

"With all due respect, Captain, you've been so secretive ever since you decided I should be first mate, and I'm beginning to wonder why you did so at all. You don't seem to trust me very much."

Ana seems angry for a moment, and Emily tenses, ready for whatever the older woman is about to throw at her.

"I'm sorry." Ana sighs, surprising Emily. "I trust you fine, more than I do anyone else on this ship. I will explain myself, just not now. I'm asking _you_ to trust _me._"

Emily doesn't like this, at all, but this is her Captain; more than that, Ana has become something like a friend (almost like a mother to her, but Emily refuses to actually think of anyone else as her mother). So, she simply nods.

"Of course I trust you, Captain." She says calmly, and decides to leave it at that for now.

* * *

><p>"Alex?" Emily opens the door to her cabin and stands for a moment, staring at her friend. "Not that I would usually be too inclined to care, but where have you <em>been<em>?" Her question is prompted by his disheveled (at least, more so than usual) appearance and distinctly flushed cheeks more than anything else. They are at Tortuga (again) and Emily had opted to simply stay on the ship this time, having no desire to deal with anyone, much less the rowdy drunks in Tortuga. "You _reek _of rum." She scrunches up her nose.

"Been wif Adrienne." He slurs almost absently, staring at her with a strange look in his eyes as she narrows hers at him. "Ye're kinda pretty when ye're angry."

"You're drunk!" She states the obvious. "You must be to call me 'pretty'." She adds under her breath.

"Well, not jus' when ye're angry, mean ye're kinda pretty all the time."

"I'll bet this is _her _doing, getting you drunk, and then…"

"I mean _really _pretty! Ye're really, very pretty all the time!"

"Alex, what were you doing with Adrienne?"

"Nothin." His brows furrow. "What would I've done?"

She rolls her eyes and pulls him further into her cabin, closing the door as he stumbles forward unsteadily. She eyes him, not sure of whether to feel amused or annoyed or disgusted.

She settles on some combination of all three.

"Alex." She takes his arm and leads him over to a chair. "Perhaps you should sit down. _Before_ you fall down."

"M'alright." He murmurs, but does as she'd told him anyways. She pulls up the other of the two chairs in the room and sits across from him.

"Mhm." She hums, eyeing him again. "So where exactly have you been all night?"

"Told ye. With Adrienne."

"And I suppose Adrienne was the one shoving the rum at you."

He shrugs innocently, and she gives him a look.

"Don' give me 'at look." He slurs. "Could've stayed with 'er ye know."

"_Could _have?"

He nods.

"She got a room. Offered for me to stay with 'er." Here he gave Emily a big, genuine smile. "Told 'er Emily wouldn' like that. Told 'er couldn' 'urt my Emily like that."

"Alex." She says skeptically. "Really? Did you really tell her that?"

"Sure I did! Knew ye wouldn' believe me." And then he crosses his arms and _pouts _and it is so ridiculously adorable that she just can't stay mad at him.

Instead, she leans forward and places a kiss right on his pouting lips.

He doesn't hesitate to let her in this time around. His lips part immediately, as do hers, and then Alex brings up a hand to brush against her cheek.

For a moment her own head begins to spin as she gets lost in the distinct taste and smell of rum and the shivers that run down her spine at Alex's light touch.

And then he is staggering to his feet and pushing her back towards her bed in the process, fumbling with all her affects…trying to get her blouse off.

She very, very nearly lets him. Really, a large part of her wants this as much as he does.

However, she does _not _want it to happen like this.

"Alex…not like this…stop, please…" He isn't listening, and she is at a loss for what to do. "Alex!" She brings up a hand impulsively and slaps him.

That seems to sober him a bit. He stops and just stares at her for a moment, startled, before stumbling backwards a few steps. He runs into the chair he'd been sitting in before, and it screeches as he half falls into it.

Neither of them say anything. The silence is deafening.

"Right." Emily is the first to break it, taking a breath. "Well. I think you've had enough fun for one night."

"Em'ly…"

"You can have my bed, I suppose, I don't think I'm much in the mood to help you get anywhere else."

He murmurs something about not needing her help, and she raises both eyebrows and crosses her arms as he stands and takes a few less-than-steady steps.

Actually, he seems even _less _steady on his feet than when he first knocked on her door. She smiles inwardly at what will be her punishment; she won't be kind about waking him in the morning.

She helps him take off his sword, belt, pistol, and he lays down on her bed comfortably.

"Em'ly…" He murmurs sleepily. "M'sorry."

"I know, I know." She rolls her eyes at him. "Don't worry, you're too handsome for me to stay angry with you."

He is asleep only moments after his head settles itself on the pillow – he probably hadn't even heard her.

She sighs.

"No harm done anyways." She moves towards the end of the bed to take of his boots. "I'd better get a proper apology in the morning, though –"

She brakes off with a slight gasp as something strikes her; suddenly she isn't in her cabin on the _Sea's Queen _anymore. No, she is home now, and a little girl again, and it is her Papa lying passed out before her on the bed, not Alex.

She'd been about to take off Alex's boots for him; she can remember having done the same for her Papa on occasion.

First she feels disgust, then she feels anger, and then…and then both feelings bleed away at the realization that Alex is not her Papa; this is the first time Alex had ever even been properly drunk as far as she knows.

Really, it isn't fair of her to be angry with him.

She closes her eyes and shakes her head before finally slipping Alex's boots off for him. Then she stands and slips quietly out of the room.

* * *

><p>"<em>I'll go…"<em>

The dream is a bit different this time. She's watching Alex and herself, still on the _Sea's Queen_. Ana is standing nearby, watching them.

"_Someone has to, right?" _Alex says.

"_No, not right, not right at all! This isn't going to work." _Emily whirls around to face Ana. _"Captain, please, this isn't worth it!"_

No one listens. Alex gets into the long boat, a few others joining him hesitantly.

Emily feels like screaming for all that she does not want to watch this again.

"_I disdain all glitter and gold."_

Alex leans over the side of the boat.

"_There is nothing can console me…"_

She turns away, like she has the past few times, but it doesn't help, she can still _hear_.

"_But my jolly sailor bold."_

Emily wakes with a start yet again and this time freezes completely for a moment, trying to remember why she isn't in her own cabin. Then she remembers, and heaves a deep sigh of relief, because everything is fine for the moment.

Alex is passed out in her cabin. Alive. And well, more or less.

* * *

><p>"Captain, please, listen to me!"<p>

"I _am _listening, Turner!"

"Then you have to believe me, whatever reason you could possibly have for taking us to these mermaids…to these _creatures_, it can't be worth it, it just can't."

"You wouldn't say that if you _knew _why."

"Then please, _tell _me why!"

"No!"

Emily closed her eyes, trying to calm herself.

"If I tell you why – I just need you to keep your head, Emily."

"_That's_ why you're afraid to tell me what you're after? You're…you're worried I'll want it too."

"I know you will. That's why I'm after it."

"I don't understand."

"You will, soon, very soon I think."

"Very well." Emily sighs, shoulders slumping a bit. "I-if, uhm, if you'll excuse me Captain," her mind flitters to Alex, who is undoubtedly still sound asleep, "I have _something _to take care of."

"Go on. And Emily? Let me know if you see any other ships out there. Any others, do you understand?"

"Aye Captain." Emily replies before slipping out of Ana's cabin…

…And stopping dead in her tracks when she sees a certain someone standing just beside the door.

"Adrienne?"

The other girls eyes are wide as she stares at Emily.

"Adrienne, what are you doing right outside the Captain's cabin?"

"I heard…"

"Everything?"

"Enough!"

"Oh, goddess." Emily says, because she has no idea what else to do.

Adrienne turns and begins to scramble up the steps, and Emily chases after her, reaching for her pistol as she goes.

"I know what I heard down there! You were talking – talking about mermaids!"

"Adrienne, please, you don't know…"

"I know where the Captain is going to take us! She's going to get us all killed!"

"No one is going to be killed! You're mad!" Emily has her pistol aimed at Adrienne; her hand is steady, her expression cold in a way that is unlike her, even as fear threatens to overwhelm her.

She has had more than enough of Adrienne, and it's showing.

"Am I?" Adrienne asks, standing stiffly nearly the railing of the ship where Emily has backed her up. She speaks slowly, seeming to choose her words carefully. "You cannot tell me you haven't thought about this. About what is really going on. Unless, of course, the Captain has told you. She tells you everything now, no?"

Emily doesn't answer, contemplating what the other girl has just said. Adrienne smirks.

"Ah, I knew it. You don't know what is going on here anymore than the rest of us do!"

"I'm sure the Captain has a good reason." Emily replies finally, sounding two times more certain that she feels.

"And what might that be, hm? What if she is leading us into danger?"

Emily is reminded of the dream she's been having repeatedly for the past few nights. Adrienne has a point, and she knows it.

She glances up and around, and the crew watching their exchange seems to be wavering. They are not stupid. They too can see that Adrienne has a point. However, none of them seem too inclined to intervene on her behalf, either.

Emily trusts Ana, that is for certain. And Adrienne is really, really, really starting to make her angry.

Stupid plan on Adrienne's part, ticking off the girl with the gun.

Emily wonders where the Captain is, anyways. She is a bit perturbed, really, because by now Ana would no doubt have realized something was up, right?

"And we've all seen how snappy she's been with you." Adrienne goes on. "Why do you think she made you first mate, hmm? Probably because she knew you are a coward and would not go against her!"

"Stow it!" Emily snaps at that, her grip on the pistol tightening. "Just – just stop it!"

Adrienne eyes the pistol, as if just realizing it is there.

"You wouldn't shoot me…"

"Wouldn't I?"

Adrienne doesn't answer, and Emily can see the fear in her eyes. For a moment, a brief moment, she does consider actually firing the pistol.

Saner heads prevail, yet again. She's not sure she could kill like that. She has another idea, though.

"Jump."

"What?" Adrienne seems startled.

"Jump. Or I'll shoot. Take your pick."

The men around them start to murmur a bit, a few speaking up.

"But what about…"

"Maybe ye should…"

"Perhaps we could…"

"Ye can't just…"

"She's talking mutiny, I'm first mate, Captain can't be bothered to come out and see what's happening, I'll do what I bloody well like." Emily responds, cocking the pistol. "Suppose you'll have a better chance of surviving if you jump, Adrienne?" Her tone is mocking this time.

It's so strange, the look Adrienne gives her. The fear in her eyes subsides and she looks almost… almost approving of Emily's actions. But Emily has no time to think on it further, because Adrienne does indeed jump.

There is a loud SPLASH moments later.

That, Emily allows herself to believe, is the end of that.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Sorry, sorry, SORRY it has taken me so long! I really have no excuse. I did write you an extra, extra long chapter as an apology, though. :) <strong>_

_**French:  
>Je suis une femme! Je refuse! Je ne veux pas! – I am a lady! I refuse! I will not!<br>Je suis désolé! – I'm sorry!  
>Je suis tellement désolé. – I'm so sorry.<strong>_

_**On an entirely different note, flames will be ignored as soon as I realize what they are, so why bother writing them? And for that matter, why keep reading my story if you hate it? Honestly, leaving flames for EVERY chapter is a bit excessive. I got it the first two times. The third was getting a little annoying. The fourth just plain ticked me off, and it was all downhill from there.**_

_**That said, thanks to everyone who has favorited and left nice reviews, you're the ones who make my day. :)**_


	36. Who Is Adrienne?

_It's so strange, the look Adrienne gives her. The fear in her eyes subsides and she looks almost… almost approving of Emily's actions. But Emily has no time to think on it further, because Adrienne does indeed jump._

_There is a loud SPLASH moments later._

_That, Emily allows herself to believe, is the end of that._

Emily lowers her pistol slowly, and just stares at the spot Adrienne is no longer occupying. She finds that she can't quite decide whether she should be proud of herself or not. She thinks of little Charlie and wonders how she could have forgotten about him up until now.

She contemplates the likelihood that Adrienne will be alright. Really, there is a _chance_, though a rather small one, that she will be. They'd been sailing all morning, though, with strong winds, and Tortuga was no longer in sight…

She finally decides she'll just be happy that Adrienne is finally _gone. _

And then she is pulled back to reality as she realizes that everyone is staring at her.

It takes her a moment to find her voice again.

"W-what are you…" She stutters a bit, curses herself for it, tries again in what she hopes is a more commanding tone. "What are you staring at? Anyone else have anything to say?"

The men glance at each other, but say nothing.

"Good! Back to work you mangy bilge rats!" She shouts and hopes she doesn't sound silly.

Apparently she doesn't. They scramble back to whatever their posts are without hesitation. She lets out a breath she hadn't known she was holding but doesn't give up whatever façade she's got going, stalking below decks.

* * *

><p>Unbeknownst to Emily, or anyone else for that matter, Ana watches the whole scene play out from her position beneath the steps leading to the helm, where she has been hiding for several minutes.<p>

She wonders how everyone could have not noticed her stepping out into the morning sunshine. She supposes they _were _a little preoccupied with Adrienne and the pretty brown-haired hurricane of a young woman that was Emily Turner.

She smiles softly, remembering the conversation she'd had with Emily the night she'd made the girl her first mate.

_"The crew will never listen to anything I say."_

_"You will have to earn their respect, then, they will listen if you give them reason to. Do you think it was easy for me to gather a crew in the first place?"_

Well, it appeared Emily had done just that, and Ana finds that she couldn't be prouder even if the whole thing had been her idea.

* * *

><p>Emily hasn't seen hide or tail of Alex yet and thinks it high time he greet the world, so she barges into her cabin carelessly.<p>

Something about the way he's laying with his head buried into the pillow, appearing to shield himself from the little light spilling in from the cabins one small window, lets her know he's awake.

"Morning head?" She asks and he buries his head further into the pillow. She snorts. "Serves you right! Come on, out of my bed already!"

He says something, but it's muffled by the pillow.

"What was that?"

He seems to sigh before finally propping himself up and facing her.

"Must ye shout so?"

"Do you even remember last night?"

"Member comin 'ere I think."

She only rolls her eyes at him.

"Yes, and I spent the night in the cabin with little Charlie and was rather rudely awakened by your favorite little French whore this morning. Don't worry, you'll be making it up to me somehow, but I'll be kind and just tell you to get the hell out of my cabin for now."

"Little French…" He stares at her blankly with unfocused eyes. "What?"

"Adrienne. I was talking about Adrienne."

"Adrienne. Oh. Oi!" He scowls at her.

"You're _still _in my cabin. I did just tell you to get out, didn't I?" She scowls right back.

"S'Adrienne still in her cabin, then?" He asks, finally standing, but freezing as his eyes widen a bit. "Rooms… spinnin. Woah. I don' feel so good…"

"Go get some water, you'll be alright." Emily tells him. "And no, Adrienne is..."

* * *

><p>Adrienne is just starting to feel the beginnings of real panic, because she can't even see Tortuga, and she's quickly tiring of treading water in her heavy dress.<p>

She swears if she makes it out of this she will find some simpler dresses to wear.

She hopes for a moment that maybe, just maybe she'll be saved somehow… that maybe Alex will find out what's just happened and insist on saving her.

Then she remembers just how unlikely that is; she'd gotten him good and drunk (a task which hadn't even lead to what she'd been hoping for) the night before and no one had seen him yet that morning.

* * *

><p>"…Adrienne is…" Emily suddenly isn't sure how to go on. She's sure that Alex will not like what she's just done. He seemed to really like Adrienne, though Emily couldn't imagine why. Thinking quickly, she says the first thing that comes to mind. "Sh-she fell."<p>

"Fell?" Alex's eyes widen a bit. "Fell where – what – 'ow do you mean?"

"How?" Emily repeats, her mind racing to come up with something believable. A story begins weaving itself in her mind and she scowls at him. "Oh, come now Alex, are you still drunk or what? What other way _is _there for her to _fall? _She went overboard!"

"Overboard." His shoulders slump a bit, and she forces herself to ignore it.

"Y-yes."

"What happened?"

"Does it matter?" Emily snaps, and he looks surprised. She forces herself to calm a bit before going on. "The point is – I'm sorry Alex." And she hopes desperately that he can't tell she is lying through her teeth. "L-let's just hope she doesn't stay with Mother."

He stares at her, all color drained from his cheeks, and seems to try to form a sentence. Nothing comes out. Another brief moment passes and he stands suddenly and lurches for the window. Emily hears him wretch. She takes it all as a sure sign that he believes her.

Jack would probably be proud of her in a way. Her Papa, on the other hand, was no doubt rolling over in his watery grave.

Emily is not at all proud of herself, but isn't sure there's anything she can do about it now.

* * *

><p>Adrienne thinks, off handedly, that she is actually rather proud of herself in a way. Granted she had underestimated the quiet, awkward brown haired girl – she certainly hadn't expected Emily to have it in her to make someone shark bait.<p>

At the same time, though, it gives her a strange sense of satisfaction, this knowledge that she created something of a monster.

She wonders if Emily has yet realized just how alike she and Adrienne actually are.

She is just about to give up on trying to stay afloat, too tired to keep trying when there was nothing to keep going for, when she sees the ship coming up to sail just alongside the _Sea's Queen_.

She can't see what colors it's flying, and really doesn't _care, _as long as there is the possibility that they will take her aboard. She gathers all the strength she can and swims towards it.

* * *

><p>Someone knocks on Emily's cabin door and she tears her eyes away from Alex to walk to the door and open it.<p>

Timmy is standing there and looking rather nervous.

"I-I'm sorry m-miss, but, uhm, a ships been spotted and…"

"Colors?" She asks, almost on automatic.

"Royal Navy, b-but they …"

"Did you tell the Captain?"

"Well, n-no, I…"

Emily brushes past him and heads down the hall, knocking firmly on Ana's cabin door.

"Captain, there's a ship come up alongside us!" She calls. The door flies open seconds later. Emily goes on before Ana can ask. "Navy. Orders?"

"Keep alongside her and leave them alone unless they move against us."

"But –"

"Emily." Ana's tone is warning.

"Aye, Captain." Emily sighs, turning to head out on deck.

Alex is stumbling out of her cabin, looking pale and shaky still, shoving his pistol into his belt as she passes him.

"What's 'app'ning."

"Captain wants us to leave them alone."

"Smart move, we'd never win that battle, right?"

"Captain didn't even seem worried …"

* * *

><p>Adrienne's relief at being saved is short lived when she realizes the men around her are all wearing uniforms.<p>

Navy uniforms.

British Navy uniforms.

And the _Sea's Queen _is sailing beside them within plain sight, and not flying any colors, so it will be (sort of rightly) assumed she is basically a pirate.

She hopes none of the men around her will put two and two together – or maybe she'll be lucky enough to have them think she was the pirate's prisoner.

She's already formulating a plan of some kind in her head, thinking that perhaps she can feign complete innocence, pretend she does not even know English. Maybe, just maybe…

And then suddenly it doesn't matter anymore as an incredibly, wonderfully familiar gruff baritone shouts at the men around her to move away.

"W-what!" She exclaims, looking at him from her position on the deck, where she had collapsed after being hauled aboard.

"Adrienne?"

"Que faites-vous sur un navire de la Marine?"

"Sir, that ship is not flying any colors…"

Captain Barbossa ignores the man speaking entirely in favor of answering the girl in front of him.

"Tis a long story, my dear, and perhaps we should save it for later." He takes her arm in a gentle grip and helps her to her feet. She stands, shivering for a moment, and staring at him, dressed in the same uniform as the others around her.

He slips off his coat and drapes it over her shoulders.

"_Sir _she could be a _pirate_, we should…" The same man who had spoken before moves forward as if to grab Adrienne, but hesitates smartly.

"I'll thank ye not to lay a hand on me daughter!" Barbossa barks at him. The man backs off. Another man – who is the only one not wearing one of the uniforms and looks to Adrienne like _he _belongs on a pirate ship – seems startled at what her father just said. His eyes widen as he seems to look her over, then eyes Barbossa. Adrienne notices the crutch her Papa is using and follows it downwards to…

"Papa?" She glances around and decides to go on in French again. "Qu'est-ce qui vous est arrivé!"

He doesn't answer her. Instead he begins barking orders to his crew, telling them to move in closer to the _Sea's Queen _and fire off a shot or two...

"N-no!" Adrienne shouts in protest before she can think about what she's doing.

"S'only to get their attention." Her Papa puts an arm across her shoulders and some of the men around her stare a bit as if this is the strangest thing they've seen, including the man who obviously doesn't belong.

She tries not to look at any of them as her Papa ushers her below decks. She waits until they are in (what she assumes is) his cabin and she is sure no one can hear.

"Papa! What are you doing on a Navy ship! _Commanding _a Navy ship! A-and attacking other pirates! And w-what has happened to your…"

"Calm yourself, lass, I can answer naught but one question at a time." He interrupts her firmly, and she quiets instantly. "Firstly I think it best we get ye into something dry 'fore ye catch yer death."

"You sound like Mum." She murmurs in response as he produces a pair of trousers and a shirt from a chest of drawers and hands them to her.

* * *

><p>The Navy ship fires a shot right across the bow of the <em>Sea's Queen<em>. Emily has so quickly grown used to Ana and how she thinks that she automatically begins shouting out orders.

"All hands on deck, _now! _Load the guns and prepare to return –"

"Belay that!" Ana's shrill voice over powers hers as she comes up next to Emily.

"Captain?" Emily asks, rather incredulous. "If we can fight them off just long enough to…"

"No. I know what they want, and they won't sink us for fear of losing it."

"W-what could they want from _us_?"

Ana stares out at the other ship and is silent for a moment. Another shot is fired, closer this time – too close for comfort.

"_Captain…_" Emily prompts.

"Come with me." Ana turns her back to the other ship and the nervous crew of the _Sea's Queen, _slipping back below decks and towards her cabin. Emily does the same, allbeit much more hesitantly.

"You want to know what's been going on? You're not the only one who had visions of mermaids. Our goddess showed me that if we wait – someone else will get the tear for us. Now, it's time."

"Tear? Captain, I don't…"

"This." Ana interrupts her firmly, gesturing towards something on the table she is now standing in front of. Emily walks forward and looks down at it, and it takes her a brief moment to realize the large, circular object is some strange sort of map. "This map…"

Emily's eyes widen as she remembers her Papa telling her a story about Singapore, a strange old map, and a man named Sao Feng…

"This map is the same one…the same one that took my parents to Worlds End!" Her eyes widen as she stares at it.

"Now you see why I was hesitant to show this to you."

"Captain, you've had this… you've had this for weeks!" Emily is angry suddenly, so angry. She told her Captain about almost every dream she had, she'd _told _Ana about seeing her father, and Ana had told her… "You told me it was, it was lost, you told me I would be foolish to look for it!"

"Any one would be foolish to try and make it to Worlds End!"

"My parents did it!"

"Not everyone would be so lucky!"

The ship is rocked violently as a cannonball actually hits its target this time.

"I suppose it's the map they want, then." Emily says.

Ana nods and places her hands just so on the map, turning it.

"There's something else it will lead us too and – I'm not sure I like that look you've got on your face, girl." Ana does a double take before turning fully back to Emily.

"If this map could lead me back to my father, _they aren't getting it_." Emily responds, then turns around and leaves before her Captain can get out another word.

* * *

><p>"Papa, please, don't hurt them!"<p>

"They have somethin we'll be needin, and Anamaria's going to give it to me. Whether I destroy that ship is up to her, not I."

"B-but Papa…"

"They tried to send ye to yer death, why should ye care?" He barks, rounding on her.

She cares mostly because Alex is on that ship. But her Papa would hardly care about that. She also, of course, cares because her baby brother is on that ship too.

"Charlie is on that ship!" She stands tall, her glare mirroring his own. "If you want your son to die." She gestures towards the _Sea's Queen. _"Soyez mon invité."

A short staring contest ensues, two pairs of identical dark brown eyes locking onto each other, unwavering. Adrienne wins.

"Cease fire!" He growls whilst still staring at her. The command is echoed by others and soon the roar of cannon fire is gone, replaced by what now seems an eerie calm.

* * *

><p>"They've stopped firing. I don't understand, why have they stopped?"<p>

"Suppose Adrienne could have convinced them to do so, assuming they've got her. Her brother is still here with us."

"C-Captain?"

Ana holds up a hand as someone from the other ship calls out to her.

"Are we really to trust –"

"We don't have much choice, do we? I don't know what they think this will accomplish."

"You can't actually go over there, Captain, they'll kill you." Emily pauses as these words leave her mouth, a thought wiggling its way into her head. "Wait. That's it. Let me go!"

"What?" Ana asks, looking incredulous.

"I-I can't get hurt. Captain, they may not be _able _to kill me!"

"Emily, you don't know that."

Emily's not sure of exactly what's changed in herself; between throwing Adrienne off the ship, lying through her teeth to her – whatever Alex is, and defying her Captain the way that she is, she's also not sure it's a good change.

"Turner!" Ana calls, sounding enraged and all Emily knows is that she feels like an entirely different person as she grabs a rope anyways and swings over to the other ship.

She finds herself staring down the barrels of several rifles the minute she lands. She supposes it was a bit impulsive – she's little more than a girl in all reality, wearing men's clothing, carrying a sword and a pistol (well, that the sailors around her can see).

She stands tall anyways.

"You won't shoot me. If that was your plan, then why bring me here?" She says, and the over-confident words don't feel like they're her own.

The men seem to glance at each other, but the rifles remain fixed on Emily. She puts both hands up where they can see them and tries to look anything other than nervous.

"Now, now, I think we can afford to be a bit more hospitable than that." A somewhat familiar gruff baritone calls out, and the sailors circling her part just far enough to let a tall man with just one leg through.

Barbossa, Emily identifies him, and by her goddess, how on _Earth _did he end up _here_?

He looks her over, and she fidgets a bit as it makes her uncomfortable.

"Miss Emily Elizabeth Turner, I assume." He says, and Emily wonders how he recognized her so easily when her father hadn't the one time she'd seen him. Then again, years in the locker had probably scrambled her Papa's brain a bit. A worrying thought. "Where's Anamaria?" Barbossa goes on, getting straight to the point.

"With her ship, where a Captain belongs." Emily replies, then begrudgingly adds a, "Sir."

"Well, who are you to come over here in her place, then."

"First mate." Emily says, trying to inject as much confidence as possible into the statement.

"A ship run by two women. And they say _one _is supposed to be bad luck. It's a wonder you can even make it in and out of port. Very well, ye hand o'er the sword and pistol, we'll go have a proper talk."

Emily doesn't move immediately, hesitant to hand over the sword her father had made for her.

"Don't worry, lass, I'll be sure they're given back to ye."

Assuming you let me go, Emily thinks, but does as she's told because she's got little choice. The sword comes off, she hands it over with her pistol, hopes no one thinks to ask if she's got anything else on her – could be useful, the knife hidden in her boots.

No one does. The sailors lower their rifles and Barbossa's command, albeit very hesitantly.

Emily follows Barbossa across the deck of the ship – _his _ship, she still wants to know what he's doing as its Captain, he's no Navy man, even she knows this.

She sees someone else as they slip below decks, and does a double take.

"Mr. Gibbs?" She murmurs.

She's never seen Gibbs without her Uncle being nearby. She wonders what he's doing here, with Barbossa of all people, and wonders if Jack's alright, and… and suppresses a sigh as she realizes that she'll most likely _not _be getting answers to any of this any time soon.

"Miss Turner." He mutters back with a nod, looking somewhat relieved in a way. To see a familiar and friendly face, maybe? Emily has no idea.

Barbossa leads Emily below decks quickly, heading to what she assumes is his cabin. Obviously the Captain's cabin. Which again brings her to the question of how on Earth this man ended up Captain on a ship of the fleet.

"Sit, please, Miss Turner, and we'll not beat around the bush, as it were. I'm sure you know what it is I need."

"I know what it is you want." Emily replies. "And I know you're only chance of getting it will be over my very dead body." The rather threatening words come spilling out of her mouth too easily. She is beginning to frighten herself a little.

"Let's not be too hasty, now. I'd be willin to bet I know just why you want it." He seems to take her silence as answer enough. She doesn't know what to say. "That's a dangerous journey to undertake." He goes on. "You'll be needin help."

"And I suppose you'd be willing to do that." She says skeptically. "To help me?"

"I'd be willin to exchange almost anythin for what I'm after."

Emily's brows furrow as she realizes that she still isn't quite sure of what's really going on here. What _is _Barbossa after? For that matter, what could he possibly want to so badly that Anamaria would also have her eyes on?

"For what you're after." Emily parrots, grimacing now. "What are you after?"

A strange sort of smirk spreads across Barbossa's lips, and Emily is inexplicably reminded of Adrienne.

"Ah, so Anamaria's not bothered to tell ye, then? And yet she calls ye first mate."

Emily huffs, exasperated now. She is getting tired of all the games being played.

"Why don't you explain then," she nearly demands, and then hastily adds a, "sir." Just so as not to make him angry.

"That map, if ye know how to read it, will lead ye straight to the Aqua de Vida. The Fountain of Youth, Miss Turner."

"Fountain of… by the goddess, you must be joking." Emily mutters. "And Captain called me mad for wanting to… why didn't she tell me!" She'd read something about the Fountain of Youth in her books. She vaguely recalls something about a ritual of some kind, and that if done properly the waters were supposed to give one a longer life, if not complete immortality, as well as something about it being able to lift curses. It seems a little ridiculous to her.

But then she's seen enough of the ridiculous and impossible by now, hasn't she? Her mother alone is proof that the world doesn't always work the way that most think.

Barbossa is silent for a moment, apparently giving her a moment to work through what he's said.

She eyes him warily. Something tells her, and she's not at all sure why, but something tells her he's not after the Fountain. Not the Fountain alone anyway.

"Alright." She says finally, her mind racing as she tries desperately to come up with a way to get around all of this. Please, my goddess, she sends up a silent prayer as a last resort, tell me, what should I do?

"Perhaps Miss Ana didn't tell ye because she doesn't trust ye." Barbossa goes on slowly. "Perhaps the only reason she's kept ye close is because she thought ye naïve. A silly girl who wouldn't ask questions."

Emily isn't stupid. She is well aware that he is trying to turn her against Ana. Or, at least, to get her thoughts heading in that direction.

A thought comes to mind, and the idea seems so right, so easy for her to see happening already, that it can only have come from her goddess.

She goes with the idea, because she's got no others, and she only hopes that her Captain will forgive her, just as Emily is willing to forgive Ana.

"Unfortunately for her, I am neither." She says finally, trying to sound angry, to coat her words with venom, although she isn't really sure what she feels at the moment. "Tell me, Captain Barbossa, just what would you be willing to do to get what you need?"

They talk for a long while, Barbossa keeping her just long enough to 'rattle Ana a bit', upon Emily's suggestion. She plays her part as best she can, and by the end he is standing and shaking her hand and, to her shock, giving her the same amount of respect one would suspect he would've given her had she been a man.

It is only as she is just about to cross back over to the other ship and begin weaving what would soon become a rather tangled web, that someone catches her eye.

She has to bite her tongue to keep from cursing out loud as a wash of jumbled emotions sends her head spinning.

Because sitting calmly at a table set up off to the side on the quarter deck, wearing a man's trousers, shirt, and coat… is Adrienne. Adrienne, with her long dark curls, and piercing eyes, and she is smirking.

_Smirking_.

Phrases she wasn't even aware she knew, curses that would make a sailor blush, run through her mind as she forces herself to look away. She doesn't know what to feel. Relieved that Adrienne wasn't actually dead, or angry that she wasn't actually out of the picture. And on top of all of that she wonders what kind of person she's becoming, that she even half wishes someone dead.

"I see ye know me daughter, then." Barbossa's says, obviously having noticed the strange exchange between the two.

Emily doesn't reply, doesn't trust herself enough to even open her mouth, so instead she just climbs down into the long boat Barbossa had lowered for her.

Daughter. Adrienne Barbossa. Emily finds, after thinking on it a moment, that this makes perfect sense.

* * *

><p><em><strong>I'm sorry this took so long. I have a tendency to do this a lot, lose interest in my stories for a while. Anyways, this chapter is plenty long, so I hope that makes up for it. :) <strong>_

_**Next chapter shouldn't take as long… **_

_**French:  
>Que faites-vous sur un navire de la Marine? – What are you doing on a Navy ship?<br>Qu'est-ce qui vous est arrive? – What happened to you?  
>Soyez mon invite. – Be my guest.<strong>_

_**Thanks for the reviews and favorites and all of that good stuff. :)**_


	37. Whitecap Bay

_**Diclaimer: I so obviously do not own any of this. If I did, I wouldn't be writing fan fiction. **_

_**I have no real excuse for why this took so long, so I'll just say sorry, and thanks for staying with me if you still are. :)**_

_**From here on out I will borrow things directly from Pirates 4, but for the purpose of this story things won't turn out the same. Also, I haven't seen the movie in a while, so I'm filling in some blanks with my own imagination. Just so no one gets confused by anything.**_

_**Ok. On with the story.**_

* * *

><p>The next few moments are a blur. Emily doesn't remember boarding the <em>Sea's Queen<em>; all she knows is that suddenly she is standing before a rather irate Anamaria.

"What were you thinking, girl! Acting like your some kind of immortal, do you know what could have happened if they'd shot you!"

"It's possible I'd have been on my way to see mother, I suppose." She finds herself replying calmly. "It's a good thing they didn't, it wouldn't have ended well for anyone." Alex is coming towards her now, and he looks about ready to give her an earful too. She slips past Anamaria, hoping to avoid him. "Heading, Captain?" She makes for the helm.

"Headin- Turner!"

"Yes, Captain."

"Face me, dammit, girl!"

Emily pauses and takes a breath, hyperaware of the all the eyes trained on her, before turning around. "Yes, Captain." She says again, and she doesn't have to fake the tension in her voice.

"What happened over there? They've not fired another shot, what did you tell them?"

"I told them we don't have the map, that we had another way of getting wherever we are going. They'll be following our lead, and expecting to do so soon, so. Heading, Captain?"

Abruptly, the Captain grabs her arm and pulls her to the side.

"Who's the Captain? What did he tell you?"

"I never spoke with the Captain himself." Emily lies outright, and perhaps not very smoothly, but Anamaria has no real reason to believe she's fibbing. "And I was told nothing other than we'd best be on our way soon."

Anamaria studies her for a moment. Emily isn't sure what the older woman is looking for, but she waits patiently as she can manage.

"Alright." The Captain says finally. "I'll get our heading."

Emily resists the urge to send the older woman a glare. She wants another look at that map, but as odd a turn as things have taken, she doesn't want to push her luck. She instead turns back to resume her trek up to the helm…

… and nearly runs into Alex. She looks up at him and opens her mouth at the same time he does, but no sound comes out of his mouth, and all she can think of is Adrienne, Adrienne and how she's alive and well and Alex will find out about it sooner or later. She shuts her mouth, scowls, and stalks past him, missing the hurt and worried look on his face as she does so.

* * *

><p>Sleep refuses to come to Emily later that night. Anamaria had threatened to make her be the one to tell little Charlie if Adrienne was lost to the sea, so Emily had been left with little choice but to admit she'd seen the other girl very much alive. She's lying awake in bed when someone knocks quietly on her door, and she knows immediately who it is.<p>

"Just come in, Alex."

He does. She sits up in bed and brings her knees to her chest; he sits at the end of the bed, but says nothing.

"If you've something to say…" She trails off, staring down at her feet rather than at him.

"It's just – what ye did earlier – jumpin over to the other ship like that – it wasn't like you." She isn't sure how to respond. He goes on when she doesn't. "Was Adrienne – is there a chance she – did you –"

"It's not like you to stutter so." She says pointedly. "Why do you care so much about her?"

"Cause she's me friend. Why do you care so much that I care about her?"

"You sound a bit like Uncle again. And you have awful judgment when it comes to lady friends, just so you know, I suppose you could've gotten that from him as well."

Another pause. This really isn't like him. She grimaces, finally raising her eyes to meet his, and finds that he is staring at her.

"Did you see her?"

"See who? Where?"

"Emily." He is being quite serious, and sounds a bit annoyed.

"Yes." She replies with a sigh. "I saw her. She's alive." He relaxes visibly. She wants to tell him just who he's been spending his nights with, they've both heard enough of Barbossa to be somewhat afraid of the man, but that would mean admitting she'd lied to the Captain, so she'll have to wait on that revelation. "I think she pretended to have been our prisoner or something, they were taking care of her."

"Good. Great!"

She wants to glare at him, but doesn't in favor of trying out an entirely different approach.

Distraction. In the form of a kiss, because they are both very sober at the moment, and she is well within her rights to slap him again, this time if he rejects her. Which, it doesn't seem he will to begin with. In fact, he seems genuinely surprised, and then he is kissing her back. And then his hands are traveling down to places horribly, wonderfully inappropriate, and she actually gets his vest off this time, and she's just about to lay herself out on the bed so they can – well, get on with it when he finally pulls away, resting his forehead on hers.

"Please." She says quietly, and wonders if he's still thinking of Adrienne, wonders why he would try to act a gentlemen with her when she was hardly acting a lady.

"I'm not sure I like this you."

"What?" She asks, but he is already getting up, putting distance between her and him.

"Ye're not yerself again. Ye've been acting strange all day."

"Alex…"

"I 'eard the crew talkin while ye were off on that other ship. They say ye made Adrienne jump."

"She was talking mutiny, Alex." She replies, as though she doesn't need any more justification, and really – they are pirates, and others had been shot for much less.

"But ye could've thrown her in the brig. There are plenty of men on this ship who would've thrown her in there for ye. What possessed ye to send her overboard?" He's giving her this intense stare, expecting an answer.

"What possessed me – everyone thinks it a joke. My being Ana's first. Until this morning…" She trails off.

"I see." He replies, with a tone that makes her wonder just what it is he 'sees'.

"Do you?"

"Aye. Pirate, right?" She doesn't know what to say. He comes forward and places the ghost of another kiss on her lips. "Sleep well, Emily." And then he leaves, and she stares after him blankly and wonders if she'll ever do anything right.

He ignores her all the next day.

* * *

><p><em>The woman is familiar, with her brown curls and green eyes, but something is wrong. She is thin and too pale. It is obvious that she has been ill. She is oddly calm as she sits on the deck of the massive, withered ship, staring down at her hands and looking resigned. <em>

_The night is calm. The moon, though veiled by a thin layer of clouds, is still full and bright, casting an eerie glow over the water and the ship. The woman is not alone on the deck; there are several others, all a little battered, wearing the clothing of humble sailors, possibly merchants on a long voyage. One might never guess on first glance that they are all basically dead. But Emily, leaning calmly on the mast a few feet away from them, knows better. She's seen this ship before plenty of times; a few times in her dreams, many more times in person. She knows what's about to happen. _

_She's perfectly used to these dreams by now, and she can sense that this is in the future, not the past, so she resolves to simply keep calm and watch. Or, to try to anyways. This is a little more difficult than it sounds, especially when she can tell her mother is coming. The very atmosphere grows darker. The clouds seem to thicken some overhead. The ship creeks and groans, the sails seem almost to wilt. The she-devil is not, it seems, in a particularly good mood. This does not bode well for any of the sailors awaiting her on deck._

_Emily's grandfather, to her surprise, appears first, looking bemused. He eyes the group of trembling sailors with a grimace, his eyes lingering on the frail woman who seems calm as can be, and realization dawns on his face. Emily knows the older man has never met the woman, but he recognizes her on some level, and this proves worrying._

_And then She strolls out on deck, and Emily feels herself tensing even as she knows she's in no danger herself._

_She looks just as terrifying as she did the first time Emily saw her like this, with her scaled skin, seaweed hair, and webbed hands. With the addition of what appear to be some kind of fins – bony, webbed spikes – on her arms, the human and yet very inhuman figure she cuts is enough to send a chill down anyone's spine. The sailors bold enough to glance up when she strolls out on deck grow even more terrified if that was possible. The woman does not look up, however. A tear slides down her cheek, but still she does not tremble like the others. Emily begins to feel a grudging respect for her sort-of-stepmother. Jade is brave, if nothing else._

"_You." Captain Swan comes to stand in front of the other woman. More tears slide down Jade's cheeks, but she doesn't move. "Look at me." The Captain demands, but still, Jade does not move. The Captain gestures to Bill; he and another man move forward to haul Jade to her feet. She glances up briefly, her green eyes meeting the Captains cold brown ones, before she casts them downwards again – and spits at the Captain's feet. Everyone tenses for a terrifying moment, Emily included, wondering what will come next. The Captain freezes, eyes narrowing at the other woman – and then she cackles. "It's rare I come across another woman as spirited as I." Her tone is almost pleasant, even as she goes on. "Unfortunately, something tells me that won't win you any favors. What's your name?"_

"_Jade… Jade Turner." She replies, quiet but steady._

_That's a lie. Emily's papa had never gone so far as to marry Jade, even when little Joshy was born. The pair had been the closest thing to a scandal as the town Emily grew up in had ever seen. The drunken blacksmith and his illegitimate family had provided the town with an entertaining bit of gossip for more than a year after it first became obvious Jade was with child._

_The Captain didn't know that, though._

"_Turner, now, is it?" The Captain keeps up her pleasant façade. "Missus Jade Turner? How interesting. I seem to recall tossing a William Turner into the locker, some years ago now. An unfaithful, pitiful excuse for a man. Who would've thought I'd come across his widowed whore so soon?"_

_Emily wants to scream as the Captain says such terrible, spiteful things using her mother's voice, but she keeps silent, remembering all too well that she is a ghost and it will do her no good._

_Jade doesn't even flinch. "Will warned me of how this would work. I do not fear death. I prefer it to you, you miserable hag. Do what you wish so long as you let me go."_

"_Come now. Let's not be too hasty." There is an edge to the Captains voice now as she gestures to another member of her crew. "Bring him."_

_Him? A feeling of dread settles in Emily's belly. Because if Jade had been attempting a voyage somewhere… and little Joshy was eight, only just getting closer to nine, she would never go anywhere without him, would she? Emily has never wanted so desperately to be wrong._

_But of course, fate is never on her side. A young boy is brought up on deck. He has his mother's green eyes and is tall for his age and it is obvious that he is trying very, very hard to be brave – tears roll down his cheeks and he is trembling in fear, but not sobbing. He has the resolve of both his parents. Emily wants nothing more than to reach out and grab him, to pull his head to her chest and comfort him, to drag him back with her so he won't have to go through whatever is about to come next. She is caught somewhere between tears and rage. _

_The Captain reaches out and pulls the boy to her side, running a hand through his dark hair. "He is very much alive and well and I am hardly in the business of maiming children. You stay here with me, join my crew. I drop the boy off, safe and sound, and never bother him again."_

"_You expect me to trust you?" Jade seems incredulous._

"_I don't make promises unless I intend to keep them, _Missus Turner_," the Captain's tone briefly turns mocking, "and you've hardly a choice."_

_Jade looks at her son, more tears pouring down her cheeks as she sobs quietly, and the decision is obvious for her it seems. She slumps forward, her eyes cast downward again. "I'll serve." _

"_No!" The boy screams, startling everyone, the Captain included. He shoots forward before anyone can stop him. The men who had brought him forward quickly regain their bearings and move to pull him back, but the Captain holds up a hand at the last minute, staying them silently._

_Emily slips forward between the other men around, moving close enough to hear what is said. _

"_Mother please – I would stay – I would…"_

"_I know you would, sweetheart, I know you would." She cups his cheek and studies him, as if to memorize his face. "But it would do no good. I am doomed to suffer either way. There is nothing you can do."_

"_Mother!" Her throws his arms around her neck._

_She hugs him tight as she steals a glance up at the Captain, who is watching the scene play out, looking intrigued in some strange way. She makes no move to put a stop to what is happening, so Jade dares to go on. "Joshua, listen to me." She pulls back to look at him again and speaks quickly. "You are a Turner. You had a father, and he loved you as much as I do. Don't let anyone ever tell you different. When you get back home, check in your father's trunk. The letters from your sister are in there, along with the money she's been sending. Write back to Emily and she will come for you."_

"_But you said –"_

"_I know what I said." She cuts him off. "Your father was a good man, and she is every bit his daughter, I am hoping she will prove me wrong." She kisses his forehead and turns him around, sending him off to the men who have been his keepers._

"_Wait." Emily says aloud to Jade , indignant, as Joshy is hauled off below decks. "What? What did you say about me, you old…"_

_The Captain barks a few orders and Jade is taken off to do – whatever it is she should be doing as the _Dutchman's _newest crewmember… _And the scene fades away as Emily wakes in her bed on the _Sea's Queen_, scowling. She supposes she'll probably never find out what Jade had been saying about her, unless her brother would see fit to tell her.

Joshy…

She knows the vision was of the future, but how far into the future? Far enough that Emily would be able to sail to the little port where she grew up and be there in enough time to ensure Joshy wasn't left alone? She wishes, not for the first time, that her goddess would somehow give her a few more details to work with. She wonders what she'll do once she even has the boy. He's still so young, she can hardly have him tagging along with the kind of trouble she and Alex tend to get in, can she?

Knowing full well she will not sleep anymore, she gets up and decides to go for a walk, preparing herself for a long night. She thinks, wistfully, of the one time she did fall asleep again after a vision – in the crow's nest, wrapped in Alex's strong arms. A part of her wishes she had him with her now to provide her with the same sense of safety, while another part wonders if they'll ever stop being so at odds long enough for the wish to come true.

* * *

><p>Whitecap Bay is at once beautiful and terrifying for all that Emily knows what's swimming, restless and hungry, in the waters beneath them. They come to a stop before an old lighthouse – or what's left of it. Something had happened here, and fairly recently. There was a fire, and the dock that had led to shore has collapsed.<p>

Emily peers over the side. Dark shapes writhe in the water beneath them, restless and, Emily thinks as she hears what she swears is a snake like hiss, angry.

"Captain?" She says uncertainly, turning to Anamaria.

"Aye, I see them." Ana replies. "We need to move fast. Go get Alex and Charlie and lower a long boat, we're going ashore."

"Captain, perhaps I should –," Emily curses herself for the slip up. Ana had been unusually wary of her since the incident with the Navy ship days earlier; she might not be as open to the idea of leaving Emily with the ship anymore, "er, that is _one _of us should stay with the ship. We could steer clear of this cursed place until –"

"I want you with me." Ana cuts her off, confirming Emily's suspicion. "And we cannot trust that the others will stay without us here, you know that, though I would pray that they will. Now do as I say."

"Aye, Cap'n." Emily murmurs grumpily as she walks off to do just that.

…

"Why take Charlie with us?" Alex asks in bemusement as Emily slips out from below decks with the ten year old in tow.

"With Ana and I gone we can't guarantee that the crew won't take off with the ship." _I wouldn't entirely blame them if they do,_ she adds, but only in her thoughts. "And there'll be no one else to take care of him, best we all go."

"Ah, 'course. Bloody pirates." He mutters, looking annoyed.

"What?"

"Nothing. S'just…"

"Just what, Alex? What is it with you lately, can't you just spit things out?" This whole situation has her unsettled, and she knows it's not fair to take it out on Alex, but he's driving her about as mad as Ana is, so she doesn't care.

He looks around a bit, uncomfortable, before telling Charlie to just stay put as he pulls her off to the side. "Promise me somethin. Assumin we make it out of 'ere alive, I mean."

Now she searches his dark eyes, worried. "Promise what?"

"Promise ye'll run away with me. First chance we get."

"What?" Her eyes widen. "Alex, are you mad?"

"No, jus' _think_ about it, Emily. Ye spend so little of all the money ye earn from Ana, and I've stashed some too, maybe we could…"

"Could what?" It comes out harsher than she intends. She takes a breath and softens. "Really, if you've an idea, I'd love to hear it."

"I don't know." He admits. "I really don't know. But we could figure somethin out, I'm sure of it. Emily, ye're dad said he wanted somethin better for ye, right? So why not?"

"Alex, where is this coming from?"

He shakes his head. "I'm gettin tired of these games, is all. Ye told me once that we are _not_ our parents, we don't 'ave to end up like them, and yet 'ere we are, and ye've been actin strange, and for all we know this could end in those Navy men takin us back to England and – well, I'm sure it ain't too hard to figure what comes next."

"That's not going to happen, Alex. I may not know what _is _going to happen, but I know that's not it."

"Then what'll be left to stop us, eh? Please, Emily. Maybe we could – we could head for the new world and…"

"And what, you'll-you'll make an honest woman out of me and we'll spend the rest of our lives having children while you tend a shop for a living or something?"

"Or something." He's beginning to look thoroughly defeated.

"That's a fine fantasy, Alex, but I can't… I just don't think…"

"Turner! Sparrow!"Anamaria calls for them, ready to leave.

"Please, Emily." Alex pleads. "Please, just say yes."

She only shakes her head and places a kiss on his cheek before walking away.

…

The _Sea's Queen _has already been brought about by the time they make it to shore. Ana and Emily watch it sail off and allow themselves a moment to mourn the loss. They'd both come to love the tough little ship; now there is no guarantee they will return. They are on their own with Barbossa; a handful of Navy men who would probably prefer to see Ana, Emily, and Alex hang; and who knows how many pirates under the command of a bloodthirsty captain who was supposed to have been killed ages ago. The Navy ship, after wasting several precious moments, possibly debating what to do, follows the pirates to safety.

Emily grimaces as she watches Alex greet Adrienne, looking more relieved than Emily would've liked, and decides that she is not looking forward to this particular adventure. Not one bit.

…

"You mean to tell me you'd never seen the man before?" Anamaria is skeptical, and Emily tries not to show how nervous she is.

"Never. I had not a clue who he was until you told me just now."

"Surely you're father's stories had him in them."

"A few times, aye, but I was just eight when he stopped telling them."

"But you haven't forgotten them, you told me so yourself."

"Well, perhaps I don't remember as well as I thought."

Silence ensues. Whatever is going on, it's too late to put a stop to it now.

"I trusted you, Turner, if you've got some kind of plan going against me, and with him of all people…"

"I trusted you, Captain, and look where we've ended up? We may never make it out of this bloody place. I think I can take care of myself."

Ana pauses at this, grimacing. "I had my reasons, girl."

In truth, Emily still _does _trust Ana. Maybe she does have a good reason for all of this. But Emily can't give up the act. "And I have mine."

Ana seems frustrated, but the conversation ends there.

…

They are in the middle of the jungle, soaked with sweat and tiring quickly, when it hits her. She's not sure why her mind chooses that moment to put the pieces together. Possibly because she overhears the discussion Alex and Adrienne are having about the Fountain. Whatever the reason, a passage from an old books comes to mind, and Emily is abruptly reminded of her dream and the less pressing but still very real problem that is her mother. The Fountain is supposed to be able to break any curse. _Any_ curse. She wonders why it never occurred to her before; could any curse include one inflicted directly by a goddess? Could the waters of the Fountain somehow save her mother?

That sends her mind reeling with a flood of other questions. Does her mother, at this point, want to be saved? Would Emily be doing the world any favors by trying? As corrupted as her mother has become, releasing her from the curse that binds her to the ship and keeps her trapped at sea could prove to do more harm than good. And what about the ship? Someone has to do the job her mother is supposed to be doing now. Would someone else have to replace her? Could that someone be anyone, or did it have to be, say, someone else with ties to the land of the living, a lover like her mother and Davy Jones had before him or her? If so, could Emily do that? Does she want her family back, broken as it is, badly enough to shove that burden on someone else? Is she that selfish? She gets stuck on that last question, and feels somewhat ashamed – no, outright disgusted – with herself when she cannot easily answer 'no'.

_Alex is right._ She thinks as they traipse ever further into the jungle. _I'm not myself at all. Bad enough that I'm willing attempt a voyage to the very end of the world just to save my father. I may get us all killed just for that. Mother is beyond help. _Alex's words from earlier, her own repeated back to her, echo in her mind. _We are not our parents. We are _not _our parents. _Her father had told her to just leave him where he was. He didn't want her to save him. He wanted her to move on with her own life. That was all he'd ever wanted, it seemed. Maybe Alex's idea wasn't such a bad one after all, especially since Emily would soon have her brother to worry about.

Maybe, if they made it out of this jungle alive and well, maybe she and Alex would be better off getting out while there was a chance, albeit a small one, that they still could.

…

She allows herself to entertain that fantasy right up until they find the ancient ship that somehow ended up perched rather precariously on the edge of a cliff. Because it is then that she is brought back to reality and reminded of the part she's supposed to be playing. At first it seems that Barbossa intends to venture forward and retrieve whatever it is they need from the ship, but then he sees Emily and is apparently reminded of their conversation days earlier. By the time all of this is over, he's going to have something that she's going to need, and that means she'll be willing to do anything he wants.

Well, maybe not _anything_. Finding a way in to the old ship and retrieving the silver chalices is just within reason, though.

"Ms. Turner, if you'd be so kind as to do us all a favor." Barbossa singles her out in a way that is a bit familiar considering they are not supposed to have even exchanged names.

Emily glances at Alex (who looks almost angry, but not surprised, suggesting Adrienne had told him something about this) and her Captain (who shakes her head, looking somehow resigned). "Aye, sir." She mutters.

"Wait." Ana says, and all eyes shoot to her. She looks about to say something, but shakes her head as if changing her mind. "Just be careful, Emily."

Emily eyes her Captain, unsure what to make of that, before turning towards the ship. Drawing her sword, she swats at the bush surrounding them, slowly cutting a path to her destination.

…

She's not sure how long it takes her to make it there. She only knows that the sun is beginning to get a little too low in the sky for comfort by the time she finally makes it. Finding a way into the ancient, creaking mass of wood isn't as hard as she'd expected; the hull is rotted and there is a hole plenty big enough for her to climb through. There are skeletons scattered throughout the dusty corridors, but with the visions she's had – bloodthirsty mermaids, ships that take on a life of their own, a she-devil and her crew full of fish people – she figures there is hardly anything scary about the long since dead.

In truth, they prove to be of some use to her. She follows them right to what she figures is the Captain's cabin – presumably where the chalices will be.

It is here that she is reminded of just how precariously the ship has been settled.

The cabin is huge, at least compared to what Emily has seen of captain's cabins. There is furniture situated around the room, chests of drawers and the like, as well as assorted pieces of treasure, shining dully through the dust they are covered in. A four post bed sits front and center. Emily thinks this must once have been quite a grand set up.

Sitting on the bed, still clutching what appears to be a very old map drawn on yellowed, fraying parchment, is a skeleton – the remains, she can only assume, of the legendary Ponce de León. The map, she realizes, would probably tell her where to go after she fetches the chalices… but she's not sure she wants to tempt fate by trying to take it from him. Whereas the other skeletons she'd come across had obviously been quite harmless, this one has a strange aura. Noticing it with senses that she can only assume are goddess given, he sends a bit of a shiver down her spine.

Anyway, that's not what she came here for. Tearing her eyes away from the skeleton, she takes a few cautious steps forward to begin searching the other side of the cabin… And freezes about halfway there, eyes widening in fear as the ship groans and tips forward a bit.

Before she can figure out just what to do about this, footsteps reach her ears, echoing down the corridor, before a voice gasps in shock.

"Emily?"

She'd know that voice anywhere. Brows furrowing, she spins around and stares in shock at the familiar figure hovering in the doorway. "Uncle?"

* * *

><p><em><strong>And that would be it for now.<strong>_

_**I've been debating whether I really want to keep going with this because, although I do have a ton of ideas for it, my writing style is continuously changing as I learn more. It makes writing for something I started quite a while ago a little more difficult. But I still have people reading this, and adding it to their favorites, so it seems you guys don't mind (or maybe don't even notice anything wrong, I tend to be too picky with my own stuff). So I will try to keep going as long as you're still reading. **_

_**Thanks to all who have reviewed. Really, reviews for any of my stories make my day. :)**_


	38. Getting There

_Anyway, that's not what she came here for. Tearing her eyes away from the skeleton, she takes a few cautious steps forward to begin searching the other side of the cabin… And freezes about halfway there, eyes widening in fear as the ship groans and tips forward a bit._

_Before she can figure out just what to do about this, footsteps reach her ears, echoing down the corridor, before a voice gasps in shock._

_"Emily?"_

_She'd know that voice anywhere. Brows furrowing, she spins around and stares in shock at the familiar figure hovering in the doorway. "Uncle?"_

"Uncle, what..."

"Emily, what…"

"…on earth are you doing here?" They finish off at the same time.

Emily stares at her Uncle blankly. "Well, er, there's this Navy ship, and Captain Barbossa…"

He starts at the same time as her. "Ye'll never believe what ship I've been on, with ole Black Beard no less…"

Emily stops as the ship they're currently on groans ominously beneath their feet. "Never mind, we don't have the time." She takes a few steps towards her Uncle in an attempt to keep the ship from tipping forward again, then begins looking through the shiny odds and ends piled around the room. "All this treasure." She is in awe, she has to admit. "The chalices _have _to be here somewhere." She mutters.

"Did you mention Barbossa?" Her Uncle asks belatedly.

Emily rolls her eyes. "That would be the only thing you get out of all this."

"And I suppose Ana's out there somewhere as well?" Now he sounds wary.

Emily turns to him, giving him the look he says mimics one of her fathers. "Aye. We were _escorted _here on the _Sea's Queen_ by Barbossa and his new friends. Don't tell me, all that's going on and you're afraid of _her_?"

"I've plenty reason to be afraid of the so-called-gentle-sex in general 'ere lately. Devil's in pretty little disguises, the lot of ye."

"'Ey." Emily feigns indignance. "I should think you've got rather bigger things to worry about if you've been on the _Revenge._"

"Indeed I do." His expression turns somewhat grimmer. "Which is why you and I have a bit of a problem, lass. I need the chalices."

Emily grimaces as well, but shrugs. "We've an even bigger problem than that, I think. I don't suppose you've any idea where they are?"

Her Uncle looks around, as if it only just occurred to him that they don't even know what the chalices actually look like. "Well… er, no."

"Could you stay put a moment, Uncle?" Wondering if her Uncles weight might keep the ship balanced, as Emily naturally weighs considerably less than a grown man, she takes a few experimental steps towards the other side of the cabin. When the ship creaks and groans but remains steady, she continues on, searching through the rest of the treasure pieces. Then she spies the box. It's no less shiny than the rest of the boxes around, silver plated with all sorts of beautiful engravings– and Emily has a feeling. Unfortunately, it's sitting on the bed, right next to the skeleton that once was Ponce de León. She doesn't want to go anywhere near it, but forces herself to move forward anyways.

There is an ominous creaking beneath her feet. Her Uncle shouts for her to be careful. Her heart seems to skip several precious beats as she is abruptly pulled downward, unable to regain her footing as the rotting wood beneath her foot gives way and her leg sails straight through the floor. Her hands shoot out to grip the bed for support and for a moment she just freezes that way, one leg half swallowed in the dark hole that's just opened up, the other bent and shaking as it tries to keep the rest of her in place.

"Emily!" Jack shoots forward as if to help her, but the ship tips forward again.

"No!" Emily stops him. "Don't, the whole ship will slide! I'm alright." She pulls herself out with wire strong arms - and nearly collapses as she tries to stand on her leg. Burning pain shoots up through it. She tries to keep a level expression, taking a breath. "I think I found them." She says as she grabs the box and tries desperately not to limp on her way back over to her Uncle.

She sets the box down at the foot of the bed and pauses, glancing at her Uncle as he moves forward. They both need the chalices, after all, and Emily isn't above snatching them up and running for it at this point, so she knows Jack won't be either.

"Together?" Her Uncle suggests.

"Sounds fair." She agrees. They each take a corner of the lid and pull it up…

… and Emily nearly throws the thing against a wall in her frustration upon realizing they're too late. There is space enough in the velvet lined box for two chalices, but now there are only a few rocks there to replace the weight. "I don't understand. We've only just got here. Where could they be?"

"The Spanish." Her Uncle mutters. "They beat us all here."

Emily vaguely remembers Barbossa mentioning something about a Spanish ship. Sighing, she shuts the box and shoves it aside, frustrated, before the map in the skeletons hands catches her eye again. Maybe she doesn't have to go back entirely empty handed. She turns back to her Uncle, who meets her eyes. Apparently, they have the same idea. She skirts back around to the other side of the bed, mindful of the hole she'd half fallen into, and ends up climbing onto the bed so she's sitting next to the skeleton. She tries to keep a little distance from it as her Uncle does the same.

Her leg still hurts. She dares not look down to inspect it. She has a worrying suspicion… but she doesn't have time to think on it now.

"I wonder why they left this behind." Her Uncle murmurs as he grabs the map and tries to remove it.

The skeletons hairy skull turns slowly towards him in silent warning.

"Uncle!" Emily exclaims out loud, exasperated, wishing he could sense what she can about the skeleton. She mouths when he looks at her. 'Don't. Touch. The map.'

He puts it back and mouths 'sorry', holding up his hands. The skull turns back to its original position.

"They must already know the path if they were able to move so quickly." Jack points out.

Emily inspects the map as closely as she can in the dim light.

Her Uncle eyes her. "Who taught ye to read a map?"

"It's usually safe to assume Ana's taught me anything useful I know." She replies, not taking her eyes of the map. "How much would you be willing to bet that's where they'll make camp?" She points to an island area with what appears to be an old fortress of sorts.

"Smart little thing, ye are. Just like yer mum."

Not too long ago such a comment might still have made her blush a bit. Now the comparison that comes with it sours her stomach. "We'd best get moving." She carefully climbs off the bed and makes her way out of the cabin. She can feel her Uncle eyeing her, as though trying to figure her out as he follows.

…

They are traipsing back through the jungle again. It's quite dark now, and it should probably make Emily nervous combined with such an unfamiliar setting, but she's got too much else on her mind, including her leg, which still hurts.

"That was a bit 'arsh." Her Uncle says, seemingly out of the blue.

Emily glances at him blankly. "What?"

"Ye said anythin useful ye know ye learned from Ana. Seems a bit 'arsh, don't ye think? Yer papa didn't do so bad a job."

"Oh." Emily has to think on that a moment, as most of her concentration is on trying not to show any sign she's in pain and it's not fading. "Well, yes, I suppose he did teach me how to use a sword at least."

"Come now, that can't be all."

"Uncle, must we have this conversation?"

He pauses, and when he answer he is all too serious. "I think perhaps we do, lass. S'bit disrespectful, is all, makin it seem like 'e didn't try."

Emily doesn't want to think about this. Not now, at least. "If he did try, it wasn't very hard, if you ask me, but then there's a reason no one did. I was too young to know what was happening, right? Anyway, it's all long since over now, I'm hardly angry over it any longer."

He seems to ignore her last sentence. "Ye were young, but ye've always been too smart for yer own good."

"Papa didn't seem to think so."

"Perhaps ye just weren't payin enough attention."

"Well maybe that's because I was too busy worrying about what trouble he'd get himself into while drunk." She snaps back

"Thought ye told me ye weren't angry?" Her Uncle replies quietly, and silence ensues.

"Why are you defending him?" Emily asks finally.

"Because there are those out there worth holdin grudges against. Ye're papa's not one of 'em. He did the best 'e could, believe it or not. Try savin all that venom for someone who deserves it, eh?"

Emily thinks on this silently as they continue onwards.

…

"Gone. They're gone." Emily jogs forward as fast as her leg will allow her to and looks around the small clearing. "They were right here, I swear it, where would they have gone?"

"S'pose ye were gone for quite a while." Jack looks around. "Maybe they thought…"

"No, Alex wouldn't have given up on me so quickly." She remembers the way he'd looked at her just before she'd left the group, the angry way his brown eyes had narrowed at her. "Would he have?" She mutters.

"He may not 'ave 'ad a choice." Jack points out gently. "If Barbossa decided it'd been too long…"

"Well – what do we do now, then?"

"Keep movin. We know where to go. We're bound to run into someone eventually. Let's just 'ope it'll be your little group and, well, not mine."

Emily takes a breath and makes as if to trudge onward – but her bad leg finally gives her away. It gives out as she tries to put her weight on it again, and she sails towards the ground with a soft shriek.

"Emily!" Jack shoots forward with surprising reflexes; she never hits the ground. With his arms under hers, he lifts most of her weight easily and helps her over to a large rock where she can sit. A tear rolls unbidden down her cheek, either from the pain or frustration or perhaps both, and he shushes her gently. "Come now, love, none of that. Why didn't ye tell me?"

She only shakes her head. He gets down to inspect her leg and is silent for so long in doing so that Emily gets anxious. "How-how bad?"

"Seems it could be worse, though I can hardly see too well in this light."

"I don't understand. I can't get hurt. My goddess' blessing – I heal quickly."

"Somethin about this place's stranger than what yer used to, Emily, perhaps Her influence is lessened 'ere. Ye've made it much farther than most would already, seems to me She's doin what She can."

Emily wipes away another stray tear, takes a breath, and reaches down to untuck her shirt, ripping a few pieces off the hem of the far oversized garment and handing them off to her Uncle. He takes them silently and begins binding the long, deep gash on the inside of her calf. Neither of them decides to comment on the possibilities of infection setting in; perhaps, like Emily, her Uncle tries to simply put the thought out of his mind, as there is little either of them can do about it. When he's finished, she heaves herself back to her feet – and ends up clutching her Uncle's arm for support as the pain momentarily makes her dizzy.

_Please, my goddess._ She prays silently. _I have to keep going._ As if in direct answer to her plea, the burning pain dulls a bit, just a bit, but enough that Emily can see straight again. Taking a breath, she lets go of her Uncle's arm. He seems to know better than to ask if she'll be alright. They trudge onwards.

* * *

><p>Alex is worried.<p>

He's tied up to a tree – along with the Captain, Adrienne, poor little Charlie, Barbossa, and the few of his men that are left – and the Spaniards have been very thorough in taking all their weapons. They also have the chalices. Alex knows little to nothing about the chalices or why they're even here, and what little he does know came from Adrienne, which bothers him. Emily had to have found out about all this when she met Adrienne's father on the Navy ship days earlier, so why hadn't she said anything to him? Up until just recently, he thought they told each other everything important.

None of this is what really has him worried, though. No, what really has him worried is Emily herself and whether she's alright. That old ship had not looked very steady. He's wishing he'd offered to go in her stead. Normally he would've without a second thought. But nothing lately has been anything close to their version of normal. When Adrienne told him about what her father had told her, about the deal that Emily had supposedly made with him – the thought had turned his stomach. Realizing Adrienne was telling the absolute truth when Barbossa volunteered Emily to go searching for those stupid chalices?

That made him furious. And he didn't usually do _furious_, especially not when it came to his Emily.

And yet, even knowing that Emily is planning to betray Anamaria, their Captain, the woman who'd actually done quite a lot in taking care of them both up to the recent point where they could handle themselves… He can't help but be worried about her. A part of him knew things like this might happen. They are pirates; the life they are living comes with those risks. But he cares for Emily (more than that; he feels something for her that's so strong he's afraid to try putting it to words). He's not sure he can stay angry with her, even though he's pretty sure he should.

_Then again_, he figures as he stares at the ground before him, feeling helpless, _if I 'ad gone for the chalices instead of 'er, she'd be 'ere instead of me. _That makes the whole point entirely moot.

He just hopes they'll make it out of this somehow. Suddenly he can hear Emily in his head –_ of course we'll make it out of this, Alex, you've heard our parent's stories. If they made it through all _that_, how can we not make it through _this_? _Except her parents didn't really make it through. Her mother's a fish-faced madwoman and her father's dead by said madwoman's own hand. He really, really hopes he can convince Emily to run away with him when this is over. He has a feeling she secretly enjoys the adventure, but he feels he's already had enough of it for one life time, thanks very much.

"What's that look?" Adrienne, who is closest to him, asks with a scowl.

"What look?"

"_That _look. We are stuck here all tied up and instead of that look you get when you are planning something you look like somebody… er, kicked your puppy or something."

"I don't _'ave _a puppy, love."

"That is beside the point. I know you are worried about _her, _but shouldn't you be a tiny bit more concerned with getting us out of here."

Now it's his turn to scowl. "What makes ye think I can get us out of 'ere?"

"Well, Emily seems to think you are every bit as mad as your father, I am for once hoping that she is right. If she is, now would be as good a time as any to show off."

Alex looks around and heaves a sigh of exasperation. His hands are tied around the thin tree with the rest of him bound by a separate coil of rope. Maybe, if he could… and then what? _Think like dad, think like dad, think like dad. _"Why do ye 'ate 'er so much?" He says to fill the silence.

"Who?"

"Emily. Who else would I be talking about?"

She pauses. "I – don't hate her." He gives her a look. He knows her better than that. She insists. "Really, I do not. It is just – forget it. It's not important."

"Well, between the two of ye, I really might go mad. And, if I'm to be driven mad by two beautiful girls, it'd be nice if they could at least grace me with a reason for it."

She rolls her eyes. "To tell you the truth, it is not just Emily, it is girls like her in general. No sense of what is decent. I…" She seems to be debating with herself, then finally goes on. "My mother was a noblewoman. I had many friends, but only two that I was close to. One was not French, or of noble blood, I never knew who she really was. Her name was Josephine, and she was esprit libre – spirited, like Emily. The other was a boy I knew from birth who I was to marry. I had just come to love him, to feel I was prepared to be his wife… but they had been planning to run off together. It was too late to stop it by the time I found out."

Well, that actually explained… a lot. "Emily would never do that to anyone. Doesn't seem fair, takin it out any other girl who 'appens to be different."

"Life is not fair. Besides, how can you be sure of that? We have already established that she is not the same anymore, no? Besides, I think I have already showed you how much _more _I have to offer than _her_."

Adrienne can be rather maddening when she wishes to be.

Alex breaks into a triumphant grin to easily match his father's in the hopes that it will throw her off, as she is beginning to look a bit smug. Sliding his hands – which he has just managed to work free – forward, he holds them up. "Adrienne Barbossa." He tests the name out on his tongue, and decides it does seem to fit. "Since ye are, at this particular moment, rendered entirely immobile and therefore without the means to slap me, I feel the unyielding need to tell ye that ye really must _get over yerself_." It works. The smug expression on her face morphs to one of sheer incredulity – perhaps at his words, probably at the fact that Alex is now using his legs and the rope that still binds his arms to shimmy up the tree backwards. He really has no idea what he's doing, he's just making this up as he goes along, but if its madness Adrienne wants, then its madness he'll give her.

His fellow prisoners are all staring up at him now, looking astonished – except for Ana. She just has that look that's half amused and half exasperated, like she gets when he mentions his father. Alex pays them all no mind as he continues to make his way up the tree. He's not entirely sure what good this will do him. Assuming he can make it all the way up to the top and slide off, how on earth is he going to get down?

That question stops bothering him the minute the tree decides he's a bit much for it to handle. This – was not part of any scenario he could've imagined, not that he'd allowed himself the time to imagine very many. His mind races ahead as the tree begins to bend backwards, but there is little he can do. He shimmies up as far as he can, until the rope loosens and he can slide out. Then he carefully, hanging on for dear life, continues to climb to the top, bringing the rope with him as far as he can. Grabbing onto the branch of another nearby tree, he pulls the one he's on as far back as it will go. Managing to undo the rope to some extent – it's still tied, but he's got it looped around the tree and has it coiled a few times around one wrist – he lets go the other tree…

And goes flying. And definitely _does not _let out a particularly unmanly scream. And loses his grip on the rope around his wrist. And, finally, lands and ends up doing a wobbly summersault – right into the middle of the Spanish camp, his back against a stone wall, the ruins of the fort. That…did not feel good. But he's got bigger problems.

Eyes wide, he scrambles to his feet and looks around at all the Spanish officers now staring at him in disbelief. He brushes off his shirt and clears his throat, still trying to get over the fact that what he'd just tried actually worked. Is _that _how his father survived all those adventures of his? Sheer, dumb luck? Alex thinks he could live with that explanation. "Right. 'Ello. Perfectly fine, I am, in case any of ye were wonderin." Something catches his eye, just behind all the Spanish officers that are staring at him, a familiar figure creeping up with two swords in hand; one of them Alex's. "Ye know, I s'pose, bein Spanish an' all, ye may not 'ave 'eard the name Sparrow before, but let me tell ye, gents, ye won't forget the name Alex Sparrow after today." The figure tosses the sword over the officer's heads, and Alex reaches out with impressive reflexes, catching it easily. A few swipes and he has two of the officers disarmed before they can register what's going on. "Do ye want to know why?" He grins when he sees the others, set loose by someone (_Emily_, a part of him hopes), sneaking around the preoccupied Spaniards. "Because _this _would be the day that ye _almost _caught 'im. And 'is friends." He adds somewhat more slowly, stalling for time until the last figure darts out of sight. "Who ye may want to check on, by the way."

To his surprise – and immense relief – they fall for the bate, turning, if only very briefly. By the time they look back, Alex is… well, gone as far as they can tell. Really, he's just used his height to his advantage and vaulted over the crumbling wall to hide behind it. His captors disperse when one starts calling out orders in their native tongue, but Alex stays put, trying to figure out his next move.

He nearly jumps right out of his skin when a hand grabs his shoulder. "I suppose you think you're quite clever, pulling such stunts. You could've killed yourself." A familiar feminine voice reaches his ears, sounding unimpressed.

He suppresses a grin. "Ah, but I didn't, did I?" He turns to his new companion and tries not to look too relieved.

"You're as impossible as Uncle."

"Nice to see ye too, love. Don't s'pose ye've got a plan when it comes to where to go from 'ere, eh? I seem to be fresh out of ideas."

Emily rolls her eyes. "Come on."

* * *

><p>"Ye're hurt." Alex points out, matter-of-fact sometime later, when the sun has begun to climb back up the sky.<p>

"I'm fine." She scowls, frustrated, not so much with him as with her whole, current situation. The pain in her leg seems to grow worse with each moment that passes, and she doesn't even have the chalices to show for it; Jack had found them at the Spanish camp and then run off (for which Emily damns him, albeit half-heartedly and out of annoyance more than anything else).

"Ye're _limpin_. Maybe I could…"

"Alex, whatever you're thinking, don't."

He heaves an exasperated sigh. "Why must ye always be so difficult?"

"Because if I weren't then every man I come across might think I'm made of glass, and then where would I be?"

"Pampered like the goddess that ye are, as such pretty girls should be." He murmurs in response, but she thinks she must have heard him wrong, so she pretends to have heard nothing at all. "Are ye sure ye're alright?" He goes on, louder.

"Alex!" She huffs, frustrated.

"Don't 'Alex' me, woman, I'm only tryin to –," he breaks off abruptly as she trips over a tree root and goes flying forward, only just avoiding a literal run in with Adrienne in front of her. Adrienne notices what's happened just in time and side steps Emily neatly, watching with amusement as Emily falls to the ground.

"Graceful." Adrienne says, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

Alex crouches down, holding out a hand to help Emily up. She works her way into a sitting position and takes it grudgingly, scowling. "And _that_," Alex says pointedly, "would be exactly why I worry about ye."

"Well, perhaps if you hadn't been..." She trails off slowly, her scowl fading as she stares at the large plant leaves in front of her. "Alex…"

"What?" He says, brows furrowing as he follows her gaze. "Oh. Erm..." He tilts his head, releasing Emily's hand in favor of reaching out to catch a dew drop as it slides off a leaf – except it doesn't drip downward and splash to the earth. Instead, it climbs upward, remaining intact as it slips through Alex's fingers and continues its journey skyward. "Well. Now that's…interesting."

Emily climbs to her feet. "Captain!" She calls, not sure of exactly who she is referring to and not caring so long as she gets some ones attention. "You're going to want to see this."

…

With all the things that have already gone wrong, Emily is half worried they won't be able to find the Fountain at all, or that if they do… well, she doesn't know. She just has a feeling something's still coming. She's not sure why she's so relieved when she sees the Fountain and realizes it can't be the source of her unease. She has no interest in eternal youth; her short life up to this point has been adventurous enough. As much as she may, sort of, secretly enjoy all the madness, she's not sure she'd want it to last forever.

She feels a presence surround her, familiar though not nearly as strong as usual; her goddess whispers, _a touch of destiny, _and suddenly Emily knows why she should be relieved. She's going to have a choice to make later. For now, however, she just has to do as she's told.

The Fountain itself is beautiful in the simplicity of its set up, a stone arch with a steadfast downpour of pure, crystal clear water spouting from its center. The massive cavern housing it is filled with growth thicker than the forest outside, impressively tall trees and colorful, exotic plants. Emily finds herself forgetting why they are even really here; the deal she'd made with Barbossa, all the trouble with her parents… it all seems very far away here in this strange place, at least for as long as the peace lasts.

The really good news: they made it here before the Spanish. The truly bad news: Blackbeard and his ragged men are facing them with weapons drawn, apparently raring for a fight.

"Ye know… we could run." Alex murmurs in her direction as they draw their swords.

"And go _where_?"

"Anywhere but 'ere. Got a bad feelin 'bout this place."

"I'm not going anywhere."

And now she knows neither is he, not of his own accord if she's not with him. The pirates charge, so they do to, and then… chaos.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Gasp! Another chapter written in a timely manner! Well, I'm amazed at least. I'm sorry I took some of our favorite captain's thunder and gave it to Alex, but Alex was just begging me to let him have a bit of fun. Hope you enjoyed, and thanks to my reviewers: VesperLogan12,<strong>_ _**Adidaskicker, ( and there was someone else, I know, if you sign in next time I'll gladly thank you properly.) :)**_


	39. Tea Time and A Woman Named Jo

Even before the Spanish finally join the party, Emily honestly isn't sure if there will be a clear winner at the end of this strange battle. Blackbeard's men almost seem to be fighting simply for the sake of fighting. The British sailors under Barbossa's command are few in number, and seem (unsurprisingly) hesitant to fight for him. Alex had spotted poor Charlie and seems intent on staying between the boy and the chaos they've been thrown into, which Emily commends him for, she'd nearly forgotten about Charlie herself. Adrienne, as far as Emily has previously been able to tell, is every bit the lady she pretends to be in at least one respect: she has no idea how to defend herself. Certainly, she is no good with a sword, Emily knows this simply from her own half-hearted attempts to teach the other girl.

It takes some work, but her goddess guides her. Swipe with her sword and step left, duck to avoid a bullet and bring her sword up in that special disarming move her father taught her, dart between the pirate and the Navy man just before their swords clash again. Finally, she is perhaps mere steps away from the fountain and the small bottle settled at its base, courtesy of her goddess. A few steps, and the short path surprisingly clear.

Until _she_ slips in to the mix.

It had never occurred to Emily that Adrienne could be feigning her incompetence. Why would it have? What reason would Adrienne have for pretending so? She's not sure, but she wishes it would have occurred to her by the time Adrienne comes to stand before her with a mean look in her eyes, a cruel glint that Emily now knows Adrienne got from her father. She's wearing a dress no different than usual, but now she has a short sword in her hand and something in her stance tells Emily the older girl is a bit more capable than she previously let on.

Emily isn't _worried. _She's practiced with her own blade for three hours a day for as long as she was big and strong enough to hold it. What she _is, _is annoyed.

"You're joking." She says flatly, not even bothering to bring up her own blade.

"Not at all. Votre précieux déesse ne peut pas vous protéger ici, rien de plus agaçant petit vagabond." She steals a glance down at Emily's leg, and Emily has come to understand just enough French to know that she wants to strangle the other girl.

"And I could _still_ beat you with one hand tied behind –," Emily cuts off with a very unladylike curse as a bullet whizzes past, nearly flying straight through her head. Adrienne chooses that moment to come at her, and she is forced to bring up her sword and parry the sloppy attack. They dance around the Fountain, swords clashing, as Emily's goddess whispers in her ear, insisting she must stop this. In fact, the only reason Emily hasn't is because of her leg; the pain is becoming more unbearable, she is getting dizzy from blood loss… and Adrienne has apparently been practicing.

Her goddess changes her tone, apparently to accommodate Emily's own indignant and somewhat arrogant thoughts from earlier. Suddenly the whispers tell Emily she ought to be tougher than this, that her father would be disappointed if she could not even beat this hateful, fairly untrained annoyance of a Frenchwoman.

That, she is somewhat ashamed to admit later, is what does the trick. Unable to stomach the thought of losing to Adrienne of all people, she puts all of her energy into one last, sturdy attack and manages to slip past Adrienne's blade. Her own hits home, sinking into Adrienne's left shoulder. Adrienne is left handed, so this works perfectly. She stumbles back and Emily kicks her sword away before sheathing her own and limping her way over to the fountain.

For a moment her goddess' whispers are drowned out by the voice of another; _a touch of destiny, so few are worthy, drink and remain whole! _Emily isn't entirely sure what any of it means, but she does know that the sudden urge to do what she's told is almost overwhelming. So overwhelming, in fact, that she finds herself reaching out with hands cupped…

But wait, no, she _can't_. She has no idea what's going on here, and as far as she knows the waters will do nothing for anyone without the mermaids tear. And what if it does work? What would she do if she alone were left properly immortal? She doesn't have too much time to contemplate, but the prospect sounds lonely and grim. She snatches her hands back, picks up the bottle she's been provided with by her goddess, and holds it out instead. The waters fill it quickly.

_Now what?_ Emily asks her goddess. The other voice quiets and Calypso's voice is a little comforting this time. _Repeat aftah me, Emily Turnah. _And then a chant in an ancient language runs through her head. Emily repeats it without hesitation, one hand held over the bottle, glancing behind her nervously as the fighting continues.

And then, suddenly, it all slows down, as if someone had simply told time to pause. The noises quiet and then cease all together. Emily is the only one left unaffected, staring as a small – well, it looks like a small gray rock that decided to sprout tiny legs, and it's coming straight for her. She isn't sure what else to do, so she simply sits frozen as it climbs up her leg, the arm holding the bottle, across her shoulders, down the other arm. Her brows furrow as it pricks her finger with one of its sharp little legs. A single drop of blood drops into the bottle, disperses. The water clears as though nothing had happened, although Emily can feel that something has.

The thing then seems to reach inside itself – or is that a shell of some kind? – and produces a cork for the bottle. Emily is too confused at this point to even question it. She closes off the bottle. Then the little gray crab-rock-thing turns into a plain rock-thing and falls into the shallow river the fountain is surrounded by and time is un-paused and Emily is back in the middle of a battle, wondering if she is delirious as she stares down at the bottle in her hands.

She hears a pistol being cocked somewhat closer to her and tries to stand, but her assumption of delirium is reaffirmed at the most inopportune time. She doesn't even manage to turn and see who is about to shoot her, and is only just coherent enough to hug the bottle to her protectively as she collapses and all goes dark.

…

She stirs when the bottle is pried from her hands.

"Emily?" Alex. He sounds frantic. "Emily, love, can ye hear me? Emily!"

"Too much blood…" That's Ana's voice. "Damn!"

Barbossa's voice rings out, sounding farther away, as he seems to order – whoever are his men now. "Come gents, what say we lend the lass a hand, nice 'n easy now."

"Bottle…the bottle…" She murmurs, trying to cling to consciousness, but she's just so sleepy. Her leg hurts, so bad, she's not entirely sure she wants to remain aware. Her eyes remain closed without her permission, and she's out again.

…

"Her leg… Cap'n…" That's Alex again, sounding like he's about to worry himself sick – perhaps literally.

"She'll be fine. We must keep moving. She'll be fine." Ana only sounds half convinced herself.

Emily doesn't even have the energy to _try _and say something this time. The pain in her leg seems to spread up further and is becoming more constant. She welcomes oblivion when it takes her again.

…

They have finally made it to the ship when she comes to again. She knows this because she is able to remain fully in the world of the living, and she can feel the familiar, comforting motion of the _Sea's Queen_ rocking gently on open waters.

However, her leg hurts even worse than she remembers. She waits patiently with eyes still closed, clutching at the sheets of the bed she's on, praying to her goddess… but the familiar, indescribable sensation of a fast-healing wound doesn't come, and the pain remains constant.

"Emily?" Alex yet again. Has he really refused to leave her side? Her heart swells with an emotion she refuses to put a name to at this moment. "Emily, love, what is it? Are ye – is She…"

"No, no…" Emily shakes her head. Her skin is warm and clammy; her clothes are soaked with sweat. She feels as though she may be sick to her stomach. Her leg, oh goddess, her leg. If it's infected… why isn't her goddess healing her?

Alex is not the only one with her. She can hear others moving about the room. The ship's doctor, more recently hired by Ana by a stroke of luck, begins murmuring to Alex, perhaps thinking Emily can't hear. "I'll do me best, but if this don't clear up quick enough, I might well be forced to…"

"No." Alex's voice is gruff and firm and near threatening in a way that Emily's never heard before. "Ye find another way to fix 'er, savvy?"

"Easy now, lad." The elderly doctor sounds nervous. "Do me best, I will, but that's the beginnin's of a right nasty infection. If it's a choice 'twixt yer lass and…" He trails off, but Emily knows what's happening now, and suddenly she's begging her goddess to put her back out. She desperately does not want to be conscious for this, isn't sure she'll make it through if she _is_ conscious for this. She curses her Uncle; he'd lied to her when he'd said it wasn't that bad. If it was this bad now, he had to have.

Her eyes fly open, and she must look thoroughly terrified. Alex comes to her side, holding a bottle of amber liquid. Propping her head up with one hand, he holds the bottle to her lips. "Drink." The sharp, spicy smell of rum fills her nose, and she grimaces, trying to turn her head away, but Alex insists. "Emily. It'll help the pain. _Drink_." She still refuses. Alex sighs, looking outright exasperated. "Stubborn… fine, then." He hands the bottle off to the doctor.

She doesn't dare look to see what he's doing. She feels it as he cuts through her pants leg and peels it away from the wound, and that alone hurts, but still she tries to be strong.

"Ye may want to get someone to 'elp ye 'old her down."

Alex does just that, disappearing briefly and returning with two other men.

"Right, then. Best get this over with."

The two men move forward to hold down her arms, shooting her looks of sympathy, as Alex reaches across her lower half to keep her still.

And then the smell of rum becomes stronger as something is poured over her bad leg… her eyes widen and she lets out a scream, taken by surprise at the stabbing pain. She hadn't realized what the doctor was about to do. Tears pour out and stream down her cheeks as her whole body is wracked with violent tremors.

"Wait, stop…" She gasps and gives up, gesturing for the bottle to be brought to her again.

"Maybe next time ye'll listen." Alex comments softly as he holds the bottle to her lips again. She drinks as deeply as she can, taking several swallows. He hands the bottle back to the doctor when she's finished. Then she clutches the sheets again, closes her eyes, braces herself.

"Alright." She murmurs, and the doctor continues.

Her goddess, it seems, has not entirely abandoned her. Just when she is sure the pain is more than she can possibly bear… her eyes close of their own accord, and she knows no more.

* * *

><p>Emily.<p>

It's been so long since she's allowed thoughts of her daughter to float through her mind that the image the name conjures is that of a little girl, a frightened eight year old. Will, she still thinks of often. There are, even still, times when he is all she can think about – some haunted, obsessive part of her refuses to forget. But Emily is a different matter. As much as she had loved her daughter – still does love her daughter? No, had loved, she no longer knows _how_ to love – thoughts of her only conjured up images of the horror that would twist the face of a pretty little girl if she were to see what had become of her mother. Lizzie has long since allowed herself to forget that pretty little girl, because it was just easier that way.

She hasn't allowed herself to feel much beyond anger in so long that the touch of sadness that niggles at the edges of her consciousness is foreign and unwelcome and… she doesn't quite know what to do about it. Why would her heart, long since buried in both senses of the word, choose now to make its presence known again?

She has a feeling…

Storming across the deck of her withered and barnacle encrusted ship, past her wary half-fish crew, she locks herself in her cabin and closes her eyes, concentrating on the pull she feels. It is a pull she feels when anyone dies at sea, the connection that forms that allows her to know where to go, or where she would go if she were to still do the job as it was meant to be done. But this time the pull is different. She's not being pulled toward an entire wreck; there is but a single soul near death in the area she is being pulled towards. A single, still quite young soul that is clinging to life with a stubborn, fiery resolve.

Emily. Emily Elizabeth Turner. Ever her mother's daughter.

And for the first time in years the _Dutchman's _lonely, bitter captain finds herself, ever so quietly, begging the goddess that she had denounced. _I don't want her. Not her. Let her live. _Cynically, she doubts that the goddess will hear her. If anything, she half expects the goddess will allow Emily to die simply out of spite for Lizzie. But that is not the impression she actually gets. In fact, she feels it is quite the opposite; Calypso shows her images of a young woman, tall and pretty, though her skin is browned some by the sun, her hair is cut short, and she is wearing men's clothing. The image falters briefly and morphs to show her the same woman, but not quite so young, wearing a finer outfit and… with only one leg. Lizzie's heart, buried in the sand an ocean away, seems to skip a beat. _Oh, Emily…_

Her eyes fly open and she scowls at nothing. She'd left that life behind. Emily, it seems, can take care of herself. Lizzie beats the emotions – worry and sadness for someone other than herself – back mercilessly. At this point she doubts Emily would want any of that from her anyway. Besides, Lizzie senses as she hears footsteps heading down the hallway to her cabin, she has more important things to worry about.

She crosses the room and opens the door just as one of her crewmen makes it there.

"Cap'n. There be a wreck. Several are left dyin, but…"

"What?" She demands harsh enough that the crewmen winces.

"A boy, Cap'n, alive n' well but 'e won't leave 'is mum, and Cap'n… Bootstrap says ye might well want to see this for yerself."

* * *

><p>It's so incomparably beautiful here, Emily finds herself wondering if she's died and somehow been taken straight to heaven. The sand is warm beneath her bare feet, but not too hot. The sun is bright but pleasant, and a cool breeze keeps its heat at bay. The trees are too green, the fruit that grows on them too plentiful. The ocean seems to caress her skin with soft affection as she wades into it. Her leg is fine, no wound, no pain. She feels strong and healthy and at peace.<p>

A familiar presence surrounds her, stronger than she's ever felt it before. Her goddess does not appear or say anything, but her presence alone tells Emily that she is safe, that she can relax. So, relax she does. She wades further into the water and goes for a bit of a swim, sits in the sand and basks in the warmth of the sun as it dries her off, goes for a stroll along the beach. She is only just vaguely beginning to wonder about things – about Alex, about her leg, about whether she really is dead, things she knows are important but that seem so far away right now – when she comes across a table set up a little further inland, where the beach meets the forest. It rests under the shade of the trees, set up with what appears to be tea and toast and jam and some pastries, and two chairs.

Emily approaches it slowly, more curious than anything else. A cup of tea sounds wonderful, and the strawberry jam reminds her of Mrs. O'malley, the kind old shopkeeper who'd occasionally gifted Emily with a jar of jam when Emily was still small. One of the chairs slides out from under the table of its own accord. This doesn't bother Emily at all; in fact, she takes the invitation gratefully, sitting herself down and fixing herself a cup of tea.

The breeze grows a bit stronger, coming in from the ocean, engulfing her in the salty and comfortingly familiar smell of the sea. She isn't surprised when Calypso herself appears sitting across from her; she'd been expecting this. She looks not much different than she did the one other time Emily has met her in person; braided black hair, dark skin, simple dress. She appears to be the same age as Emily. The only difference is the strange tattoos adorning her otherwise unblemished skin.

"Tea, my goddess?" Emily asks quietly. Calypso nods, seeming curious as she watches Emily pour the hot drink.

"You are not dead, yeh know." The goddess says as Emily sits back down.

"I had wondered." Emily stares down at her tea, hands in her lap. "May I ask where I am, then?"

"You may ask whatevah yeh like, young one. I will let yeh know what must not be spoken of. You are on my island, a paradise. I will keep yeh safe here 'til I t'ink it time yeh return."

"I don't wish to sound ungrateful…"

"It will be a some time in yeh world 'fore yeh wake again. De important t'ing is dat yeh _will_ make it back." Emily only nods. Calypso goes on softly. "Come young one, speak yeh mind."

Emily looks up hesitantly. "I'm just… There's so much I don't understand. I don't know where to begin." She goes with the first thing that comes to mind. "What happened at the Fountain? That strange chant and the creature…"

A smile graces Calypso lips, almost mischievous if Emily didn't know better, as she reaches down to lay a hand out flat in the sand. Emily looks down and watches as a creature not unlike the little gray-rock-thing Emily had seen scurries out of the sand and into the goddess' palm.

"Once every few hundred years or so, a man born wit' a heart dat is good, truly, finds him way to de Fountain of Yout'." Calypso lifts the crab and begins to pet its gray shell. "Once dere, a choice is made: to drink from de Fountain and live fully immortal until de time come when him wish to die, or to take de waters and share wit' another. Dis option provides him and him partner only wit' youth eternal, leaving dem open to harm; but if de partner is chosen wisely, him may never know loneliness. Dat is de choice must be made. You chose wisely, young one."

Emily mulls this over, thinking of how tempted she'd been at first glance to just drink. The thought of such a long life wasn't overtly appealing on its own, but if she were to have someone with her, Alex perhaps? And if her leg was as bad as it had sounded like it was – the water would heal her. She doesn't know. She'll have to think about this, and has a feeling she'll have a bit of time to do so later. Now, however, she has been gifted with the chance to have a proper talk with her goddess, and she has no wish to waste it.

"I have so many questions…"

"Take yeh time, young one. I am here to stay for de time bein." Calypso sets the small gray crab creature back into the sand and takes a sip of her tea.

Tea. She's sitting on a beach so beautiful it's unreal, having tea with a goddess. Emily finds that she needs a moment to gather her thoughts. Calypso waits patiently.

"The visions you've sent me – may I ask about them?"

"Yeh may ask." The goddess' tone implies answers may not be given, but Emily figures that means it can't hurt to try.

"That – creature," Emily begins slowly, "that runs the _Flying Dutchman_. She is _not_ my mother, but… in the last vision you sent me I could see pieces of my mother in her. She allowed my brother a moment with Jade, and promised to let him go. Is it possible… could she still be saved, somehow?"

"It is hard to say. A drink of de Fountain's waters could lift de curse she has brought 'pon herself and free her from de ship, but to give her back what was human 'bout her..." The goddess shakes her head grimly. "Dat is anot'er matter."

Emily had a feeling that would be the answer. "Well, assuming she could be saved… what would freeing her from the ship entail?"

"Dat is a simpler task. De _Dutchman _must have a captain, as yeh well know. Yeh would need to find someone to replace her."

Emily is careful about asking her next question. "Would this person have to be in love as well?"

The goddess nods. "Dey must have ties to de land of de livin. It is what allows dem to remain somewhere between de state of life and death."

The next question comes to Emily's mind without her really thinking about it, and once there she cannot seem to let it go. It is a cruel thing to wonder, cruel to the point where she wonders if somehow her mother's madness is infectious and is trying to spread to her. She doesn't think she could ever bring herself to actually do that to someone, but still, she can't help but wonder: does the replacement captain have to be exactly willing?

Her goddess scowls and the wind picks up a bit. "No, dey do not."

Emily is more than a little startled at the realization that the goddess is reading her thoughts. "I didn't… I wouldn't… I could never actually… Please forgive me, my goddess, that was a terrible thing to wonder."

Calypso is eyeing her now with a stare so intense that Emily wonders if her very soul is somehow being read. A moment passes like this, with Emily squirming uncomfortably in her seat, and then the goddess softens, and the wind dies back down to a pleasant breeze. "You are more like yeh fat'er dan yeh mot'er, yeh know."

Emily wasn't sure what she'd been expecting, but it certainly wasn't that. "What? I-I mean, begging your pardon, my goddess, but I…"

"I know what ye t'ink of yeh fat'er, young one. If yeh watch yehself in some ways, being like him in ot'ers will do yeh more good dan harm."

Will Turner is the last thing Emily wants to talk about. In fact, the only person in her family that she even wants to think about is her younger brother. However, she still has a promise to keep, and this brings up another question. "Can I – _should _I – save him? My papa, I mean."

"Do yeh t'ink I would've gone to de trouble of sendin yeh to see him if yeh couldn't?" Her goddess says with some attitude. "T'isn't so easy, yeh know, sendin someone all de way across de land of de dead and den pullin dem back. Of course yeh can. I do not know about _should, _dat is up to you."

A small smile graces Emily's lips. "Forgive me again, my goddess. I was grateful for the chance to see him." The smile fades all too quickly. "But he hardly recognized me. And after all that's just happened, I hardly recognize myself. I don't know if I could stand it if he were somehow disappointed in me."

"Yeh did what yeh had to. Yeh fat'er will understand dat." Is all the comfort her goddess offers, and Emily supposes that's alright. She wouldn't know what to do with anything beyond that.

Pain shoots up her leg, not nearly as bad as she had felt it earlier, more like she is only feeling the echo of it. Still, she cringes. She has a feeling the fact that she can feel it at all is not good. "My leg. Am I – am I going to…"

"Yeh have de waters now, to drink if and when yeh ready. Dey will make yeh whole again. It is all up to you."

Emily grows quiet. "May I ask why you didn't heal me?"

Her goddess gives her a mysterious smile. "A touch of destiny." Apparently, that is all the answer she'll get.

Emily sighs. "Yes, I was afraid that's what you'd say."

"Knowin too much of de future is dang'rous for mortals. De temptation to change t'ings is too strong. Some t'ings must happen as dey will."

"Yes, I understand." Emily sighs. Her head is already spinning from all the information she's just been given, she can't think of anything else to ask, and that's alright. She has a feeling this will not be the only time her goddess pays her so direct a visit.

"Yeh need time to t'ink." Her goddess stands, and Emily scrambles to her feet as well. "Yeh should rest. I will come to see yeh again soon." She leans in and presses an almost motherly kiss to Emily's forehead. Then the wind picks up again. Emily blinks, and her goddess is gone. Sighing as she suddenly finds herself quite on her own again, she sits back down and reaches for one of the pastries on the table, supposing she can at least enjoy the peace while it lasts.

…

Her goddess provides her with everything she could possibly need; all Emily has to do is think it. When hungry, she has only to conjure up an image of what she wants to eat, and it appears on that same small table. When bored, she wishes for her sword to practice with, and it appears, sticking out of the sand right next to her. Night and day seem to be relative here; when she is tired, the sun seems to set simply because she wishes it to. When cold and wishing for a place to sleep, a shelter builds itself not far from the table, a wood fire blazing to life just in front of it. Emily thinks it would be easy to lose time here, to spend an eternity basking in the sun and sand and peace and quiet… if only she had someone to share it with.

…

Sleeping on Calypso's island proves stranger than anything Emily's encountered before: she dreams of what's happening back on the _Sea's Queen_. She sees her own body, pale and feverish, tossing and turning on the bed she lies in. She sees Alex pacing the length of her cabin next to her, refusing to leave her side. She watches a woman with long black curls and olive skin come in to check on her. She is older than Emily and Alex, perhaps by several years, and Emily has never seen her before, but she acts as though she knows Emily. The woman and Alex have a quiet conversation in which the woman informs him that Adrienne apparently plans to stay with her father. That's enough to considerably lift Emily's spirits.

Emily tries to get a better look at – well, herself, lying unconscious on the bed, to see if her suspicions are correct. Her goddess ends the dream, however, before she can.

…

She is on the island for four full days by her count, but she is not at all certain of whether she is accurate. In fact, she finds herself rather worried that she isn't by the time her goddess comes to see her again.

"It is time, young one."

"Will I see you again? Like this, I mean."

Her goddess gives her that same mysterious smile. "Anyt'ins possible."

"Right." Emily sighs. Calypso, she has learned, is rather fond of giving answers that aren't quite answers.

"Come now, yeh have bigger t'ings to worry about. And Emily."

"Yes, my goddess?"

"Don' be too hard on yeh Alex. Him only want what is best for you."

Emily isn't quite sure why her goddess would feel the need to tell her this, but she is whisked away as swiftly as she'd first come before she can ask.

* * *

><p>It's nighttime when she finally comes to once again in the land of the living, and she is not alone. Someone is humming softly, sitting just out of her line of vision. The tune is foreign to her but beautiful, and she sits for a moment and just listens as she gets her bearings. She is very much alive. She can feel the ship rocking gently beneath her, and she's not sure yet, but she thinks she might be in her cabin on the <em>Sea's Queen<em>. Her whole body aches something terrible; it is not hard to tell she's been sick, but the pain is somewhat welcome, helping to pull her back to consciousness.

Her leg… she can't feel her leg. She has to force herself to take a deep breath at this realization. She'd been expecting this. She is probably lucky to be alive at all, and at least it's not hurting. No need to panic. Finally, she opens her eyes. A moment passes wherein she looks around a bit and confirms that she is in her cabin, and then the humming stops.

"Oh! Well, hello." A voice, feminine, a smooth alto with the hint of an accent that Emily can't place. Whoever it belongs to moves into Emily's line of sight; a sturdy, olive skinned woman, the same woman Emily had seen in her dreams a few times while on the island. She is wearing a simple dress, her long black curls pulled back loosely, and she is checking Emily over in an almost motherly fashion.

"Who…?" Emily croaks, ending in a small cough as she tries to clear her dry throat.

The woman reaches for a mug sitting on a table and offers it to Emily. "Here now, a little water'll clear that right up." Emily lifts her head as best she can and drinks as the woman goes on. "Please forgive me, you've been out for some time. My names Jo and… well, there's a lot to explain, and all of it can wait."

Several questions come to mind. The only one Emily finds herself able to articulate is, "A woman…named Jo?"

Jo laughs quietly. "I'm not overly fond of my full name, my father's the only one who calls me by it. Now you rest while I got get Alex. He'll have my head if I leave him 'til morning and he finds out you've been awake."

Emily watches the strange woman go, brows furrowing. She's not sure why, but she feels that this woman's name is important somehow. "Wait… your proper name. What is it, then?"

The woman turns and raises a single, questioning eyebrow, but shrugs. "Josephine. Josephine Gibbs."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Just to be clear so no one gets put off by the idea of <strong>_**another **_**OC running around: Adrienne is going to join her father on the **_**Revenge**_**, and I needed a kind of replacement… well, you'll see. The point is, we won't be hearing much more from Adrienne, at least not for a while. And I am sorry for the bit that's in Lizzie's point of view, I just couldn't make it work quite the way I wanted it to. **_

_**Actually, I'm kind of not sure about this whole chapter, so reviews will be much appreciated. **_

_**As for poor Emily… I know, I'm terrible in the way I torture my characters. I was going to go a completely different direction with her leg and how that would get fixed, but then I had the idea for a sort of nickname for her, to match her grandfather's 'Bootstrap Bill'. I don't know that I'll use it. Review/PM me if you want to hear it, I wouldn't mind having someone to bounce the idea off of.**_

_**Emily: *glares and taps remaining foot* You had to do it, didn't you?**_

_**Me: Yes.. Yes I did.**_

_**Emily: *glares harder and aims pistol***_

_**Me: *cowers* Don't kill me…**_

_**(Ok, so the next chapter may have to wait until she decides to let me come out of hiding...) :)**_

_**French:**_

_**Votre précieux déesse ne peut pas vous protéger ici, rien de plus agaçant petit vagabond. - Your precious goddess cannot protect you here, you annoying little tramp.**_


	40. A New Friend and a Confession

Emily doesn't like not knowing. Waiting in her cabin, too weak to do much beyond working her way into a sitting position, waiting for Alex to come with the expectation that he will not be happy with her being the only thing she knows for certain, she wants to scream. If all had gone according to plan, the _Sea's Queen _should technically be hers now, but since she wasn't around to see that happen, she finds herself worried about what's gone on since. Assuming all _had _gone according to plan, where was Ana? Was she alright? Emily hadn't actually wanted anything bad to happen to the older woman; in fact she'd been hoping to talk some things out with her. And what was with this woman, Jo? She'd seemed – normal. Possibly the most normal person Emily had ever met. Certainly the most normal woman. Except for the strange fact that she acted like she already knew Emily, and perhaps Alex as well. There is something about her, though, something familiar…

Footsteps sound out, pounding down the corridor at a brisk pace, pulling Emily out of her reverie. The door to her cabin is thrown open to reveal… Alex, looking an adorable mess as he has obviously just been woken up, his hair a mess and his shirt untucked. Adorable? Not an adjective she can quite remember ever putting to him before. Is she still a tad delirious? She'll have to have someone check her for fever.

She's not sure what to say now that he's standing here before her, but before she can think on it he is at her side, his strong arms pulling her into a hug as he buries his face in her loose hair.

"Alex?" She hugs him back, but loosely, bewildered. She understands that she had been very sick, but he's acting like he'd thought her dead. Jo peers into the room just long enough for a smile to tug at her lips – either at Alex's open display of affection, or Emily's expression, Emily isn't sure – and then slips back out, pulling the door shut behind her. "Alex. Please, I don't… what's going on?"

"I thought we'd bloody well lost ye, that's what's goin on, and to a bunch of rotten splinters, no less." There is no venom behind his words, just stark relief. He pulls away to plant a kiss right on her lips before looking into her eyes. "Ye're leg, it just got worse. Ye've been real sick for – ages, seems like."

"Ages." Emily takes a shaky breath. "Alex, what exactly is your definition of 'ages'?"

"More n' a week. Do ye remember anythin? Ye were in 'n out o' consciousness plenty of times, but we weren't sure if ye were really there or not."

"I wasn't." Her thoughts are foggy. She feels weak and exhausted and – weak. A week. _More _than a week. "More than a week!"

Now it's Alex's turn to looking thoroughly bewildered. "What's wrong?"

"Who's captain of this ship."

"What?" Now he's scowling.

Emily knows how this will sound to him, but it's important. "Alex, who is captain of this ship? What happened while I was go- out. What happened while I was out? Am I captain?"

He shoots back to his feet, suddenly looking – furious. "I should've known that's all ye'd be worried about. Do ye 'ave any idea what they've done to the Cap'n – to Ana? Barbossa tied 'er all up and tossed 'er in the brig on 'is ship, keepin 'er for _you _'e says. If it weren't for ye bein so sick ye may 'ave 'ad a mutiny on ye're 'ands for all the questions Ana's men 'ave 'ad."

"No! But that's not -," she shifts around on her bed in an attempt to get up, "I'll fix this, I have to…"

"Whoa, now, wait…" Alex shoots forward to try and stop her, but he's too late. She swings her legs out so she's sitting on the edge of the bed – and freezes, staring down as it truly sinks in. Her left leg. She only has _half _of her left leg. Alex goes on, his tone a bit more gentle again. "Easy, love. Told ye, ye've been out for a long time. Ye're gonna be fine, the – erm, wound started healin quick as is usual for ye, soon as that old surgeon the Cap'n hired – was finished."

"Fine." She nods, continuing to stare for a moment, before looking up. "Right then. We – we have to get me out of this cabin somehow. I have to fix this mess with the Captain, I don't care how anymore. Please, this isn't how I wanted things to end up."

"Well, what did ye think would 'appen, then? Tell me ye didn't think ye could _trust _Barbossa after all the things we've 'eard of 'im."

"To be perfectly fair, the deal was simply that I would get Ana to lead him to Whitecap Bay without a fuss and in return he would find a way to ensure that the _Sea's Queen _was mine by the end of it." It also entailed that she be allowed to keep the map, but she's not sure she wants to explain about that at the moment. "I intended to have a talk with Ana once it was all over, but then," she pauses, gesturing towards her leg, "_this _happened. I suppose he was only keeping up his end of our bargain the best way he knew how."

"You intended to have a talk with Ana. A talk. And what did ye think…"

"To be honest… I never actually managed to think this far ahead, look, are you going to help me or not?"

"There's no way ye're leavin this cabin. Even if ye still 'ad…" He gestures towards her leg. "Ye've been sick. Ye need rest."

She knows he's right. She feels light headed just sitting as she is, enough that her stomach isn't thanking her for it. Her whole body still aches. She can tell her goddess is healing her now, but it will take a little time. "Well, then." She goes to lay herself back down in the bed. Alex tries to help her, but she waves him away, annoyed. "You'll just have to explain all of that to Barbossa and ask that he come to me." She makes herself as comfortable as she can manage and closes her eyes. Sleep actually does sound good. Very good.

"Me? Why me?"

"Because who else is going to do it? I'm the closest thing we have to a Captain at the moment, no matter how the crew may be questioning it, and since I'm not going anywhere, I'll need someone to – be first mate, I suppose." She opens her eyes halfway to look at him. "Problem?"

He's staring at her now, both eyebrows raised. "Well…no. S'ppose not."

"Good." She closes her eyes again.

"Right then – I'll just..."

She listens to him leave and lets out a sigh, glad that Alex could be so easy to deal with at times. Sleep takes her easily – proper, and blissfully dreamless.

…

When she wakes it's to Jo again, this time carrying a tray of food into the room, along with two mugs of – she's not sure. All she knows is that the smells reaching her nose certainly aren't bad.

"Sorry to wake you, but you're going to need some food if you're to get your strength up." She sets the tray down on a nearby table as Emily sits herself up in bed. "Bet even this'll taste plenty good after being out long as you have." She hands Emily a bowl of some kind of gruel – Emily doesn't question it, knowing it's been a while since they've stopped for supplies. Her stomach has settled from earlier, and she finds she is hungry. "Tried to get Alex to come down here, figured you'd rather have a familiar face, but he refused. I can leave you to it if you'd like."

"No, please stay!" Emily says, perhaps a bit too quickly, and rushes to explain. "I mean… I don't know that I could stand to be alone with my own thoughts just at the moment. Company of any kind would be welcome." Jo raises that eyebrow again, but grabs a chair from the table and sits without question, grabbing one of the mugs off the tray and taking a sip. Emily eats in silence for a moment, then eyes the older woman. "May I ask you something?"

"Be my guest, I'm sure you have plenty of questions for me."

"How do you know Alex?"

Jo's eyebrows furrow. "Hasn't he mentioned me before?"

"Not that I can recall."

"Surely he has. I was on the _Pearl _with him for a time– more than a year ago now."

"Oh. That would explain it. He hasn't talked too much about his time on the _Pearl_." Emily says, then blinks. "Wait. You – what – why were you on… You're not a pirate. Are you? You don't much talk or act like one is all."

Jo looks – amused. "I'm not one. Or, I certainly wasn't before I ended up on the _Pearl_. Now all I know is that I'm here, and I've nowhere else to go, so here I plan to stay – if whoever ends up Captain on this ship will allow me to, of course."

"Well, yes but how exactly did you end up _here_."

"I was with my father. There was a bit of – trouble in England, and he accidently dragged me into it. We were both to be hanged. He insisted I be brought along on the Navy ship, trying to ensure I'd be alright. I had no idea why Barbossa agreed until I saw Addy – erm, that is, until I realized he had a daughter too. Come to think of it, seeing as I was to be hanged too, I suppose I really am a pirate, at least as far as all those boys back in England are concerned." She takes another sip of whatever's in her mug – rum, Emily suspects, as she catches a whiff of an all too familiar smell – seeming entirely unconcerned with the conclusion she's just come to.

Emily is now curious about several different things, not the least of which being the older woman's strange slip up, but decides they will probably have time for plenty other conversations like this one. "Can you cook?" She ends up asking simply.

"Cook? Well, sure. I was married… rather enjoyed working in the kitchen, actually. Why?"

"That was Adrienne's job here on the ship, but she'll be gone now, thank my goddess. A replacement would be needed. Whether it's me or Ana ends up Captain, I doubt any one will object to you staying on."

"Ah. Well, that's good to know at least." Jo stands and takes Emily's now empty bowl, placing it back on the tray, and then hands her the second mug, water. "Here, get some of that down you and then I'll let you rest."

Emily does as instructed, then hands the mug back to Jo, who places it back on the tray and makes as if to leave, but hesitates.

"Something wrong?" Emily asks.

"No. That is, not exactly. Just – Alex. He asked you something just before all that business with the Fountain began." It's a statement, not a question. Emily isn't sure what to make of that. Jo seems to catch herself, adding, "Didn't he?"

Emily runs through all the conversations she's had with Alex in the past several days – at least the ones she can remember. It takes her a moment to realize what the other woman must be talking about, because that conversation couldn't possibly have been overheard by anyone, much less Jo. "How did you know that?" She asks warily.

"Our goddess has a strange fascination with sending me visions of people I've not yet met." Emily's eyes widen as it all suddenly makes sense, but Jo goes on before she can say anything. "All I mean to say is that Alex may have things figured better than you think. I'd think about what he said. But then, that is just me."

Emily tries to form a response of some kind, but she's not even sure what to think now, and the older woman ducks out of the room before she can.

* * *

><p>The next few days are entirely too dull for Emily's liking; Alex and Jo team up to mother hen her, insisting that anything and everyone else can wait until they are good and sure she's as alright as she's going to get. Emily, in turn, insists (with as much fire as she can manage being quite stuck in bed) that they get moving with an actual destination in mind. Everyone seems agreeable enough to that, and after much debate on <em>where <em>they should go…

"_Alex, you're not hearing me, Joshy's all alone now, I can't just leave him, I won't!"_

"_I'm not sayin ye should, love, all I'm suggestin is that we find a way to deal with," he gestured to her leg in that vague way he'd been using, "all this business first."_

"_Well, then, what do you propose we do instead?" She crossed her arms and glared daggers, trying to be as fierce and not vulnerable as possible._

"_We go visit me granddad. He can help ye, and ye can send a letter to ye're brother from there, let 'im know ye're comin."_

… They were on their way to Shipwreck Cove.

Her talk with Barbossa is also entirely anticlimactic. He offers his sincerest sympathies for her leg, has Ana brought aboard the _Sea's Queen_, wishes her the best of luck, and then goes on his way (on the _Queen Anne's Revenge, _Emily had been told. She is rather impressed with that bit, she has to admit.)

And then she is alone with Ana. Ana, who looks more resigned than angry, Emily notes warily.

"I'm not going to say I'm sorry." Emily begins tentatively.

"You'd be lying if you did. I know. I'm a might proud of you for it, in fact." Ana replies, her eyes trailing down to stare openly at Emily's half-missing leg. "A sip of the waters and you wouldn't have to worry about that." She goes on conversationally.

"I know. It's just… a little more complicated than that."

"Hmm. It always is, isn't it?"

"Captain –"

"We both know I'm no one's captain anymore, Turner. Ana will do fine."

"Why did you want to get to the Fountain so badly?"

Ana sits herself down in the chair Jo and Alex (unfortunately, more often Jo than Alex) have both occupied several times over the past few days, heaving a weary sigh as she does so. "Because I'm a fool, Emily. I begged our goddess for more than I needed to know. I was hoping to change what I saw."

Emily's brows furrow. "I don't understand. What did you see?"

Ana only shakes her head. "It matters not now."

Emily has never wanted so desperately to pry, but decides against it. If Ana's haunted expression is anything to go by, she probably doesn't want to know. "I need this ship, but up until I realized that, I had no desire to be captain." She starts instead, knowing she is not talking much like a pirate, but Ana is her friend. She feels she more than owes the older woman. "This crew is yours. They're loyalty is yours. If you were to stay, it would save me the trouble of having to earn it for myself, being too young and especially now that I'll have to..." She trails off, turning to stare down at her leg in frustration.

"Oh no." Ana says quickly. "It was a nice little stroke of luck, my ending up with this ship, but I've had my fun. I knew the minute you first stepped on board that it would soon be time for a change. Time for someone else to have a turn. I'll tell the crew this was my decision, you didn't force me. After that…" She stands and crosses the room to the open window, looking out on the ocean as she runs a hand over the window sill. "She's all yours, Emily." She pauses a moment, then turns, a bit of the fire Emily is more familiar with returning. "And don't go wasting time feeling sorry for yourself, either, Turner. If Barbossa, that crotchety old cur, killed Blackbeard himself with only one leg, I should certainly think you'll get along just fine too. In fact, I expect you'll come to me one day with a tale even better than his."

Emily laughs, quiet but genuine, something she hasn't done in – she can't remember how long. "Aye, Cap'n." She gladly accepts the challenge.

From then on, Ana calls her captain. The switch proves stranger for Emily than it does for anyone else, particularly because she no longer has a comfortable way to address Ana.

…

Alex is avoiding her again. She's not sure if it's out of anger, or if he simply no longer knows what to say to or how to act around her. She forces herself to give him some time, supposing it's her own fault. On a more pleasant note, however, Jo is much more agreeable than Adrienne ever was, and Emily finds herself easily settling into a friendship with her. It is nice, she finds, to have another sensible, fairly like-minded female aboard – one that is not her captain, that is.

"It's going to be hard enough hobbling around as it is, Jo."

"I just thought you might wish to make a more proper impression, is all. You don't look much like a captain as is, you know."

Emily has to admit Jo was right. In her torn shirt and ripped and blood stained pants, she does look rather dreadful – even by a pirate's standards. She simply can't see herself putting on her old dress, though. She hated the thing to begin with. Now that she is currently down to limping along with a crutch to replace her leg, she isn't sure she'd manage to get anywhere in it without tripping over her own two – well, her own foot. She sighs in frustration. She is becoming more and more tempted to simply pull out that bottle and drink the water. Her goddess had said it would make her whole again. Some part of her doesn't see why she has to learn to live like this at all.

"Surly you must have something else you can wear? I managed to drag one of my bags along when I slipped off that Navy ship, perhaps one of my dresses..." Jo trails off as Emily gives her a pointed look. Where Emily is tall and thin, Jo is short and sturdy. One of her dresses will never fit Emily, it simply wouldn't work. "Well, it was a thought." Jo huffs.

Thinking it through again as she stares across her cabin – the captain's cabin, now hers because Ana had insisted – Emily spots the tall cabinet standing against the wall… and remembers something. Climbing to her feet using the makeshift crutch that Alex had made her, she limps across the room and opens the cabinet, taking out the clothing box inside.

When Alex had gifted her with this ensemble, weeks ago – or was it more like months now? – Emily had been adamant that she would never wear such a ridiculous outfit. Now, as she pulls out the fine red shirt and turns to Jo with a mischievous smile, she supposes there is_ someone _whose eye she wishes to pull in her direction, and perhaps his gift is the perfect way to do it.

* * *

><p>"Em-Captain?" Alex has to correct himself, not for the first time, as he knocks on Emily's door. They have long since made port at Shipwreck, and Alex has already ventured bravely out on his own to see his grandfather. That meeting, fortunately, had gone much better than he'd expected. The man had looked even more ancient than Alex remembered, and somehow Alex found he was no longer quite so intimidated by him, although he was a bit wary of him. Teague had seemed oddly eager to meet Emily, and Alex couldn't help but to wonder why. He supposes it could be a harmless curiosity, with Emily being the Pirate Kings daughter and all. He hopes that's it. Getting no immediate answer from within the captain's cabin, he knocks again. "Emily? Are ye alright? I already talked to me granddad, he wants to meet ye, are ye ready to go…?" He ends up trailing off a bit awkwardly, as it doesn't quite fit to say 'go ashore', since that implies land is involved. Shipwreck Cove is quite literally made up of bits and pieces of a ship, a giant floating fortress.<p>

"Yes, I'm coming Alex!" Emily calls back, and sure enough, he hears her off gait as she hobbles across to the door. He hasn't seen much of her in the past days. He's no longer sure how to act around her. He knows she won't want anything to have changed, but the fact is quite a lot _has, _and it's going to take him some getting used to.

The door opens, pulling him out of his thoughts. He sees red and his eyes widen at what he finds standing before him.

She is wearing _that _outfit. The one he'd bought her weeks ago – more like months now probably, certainly feels like ages – and he finds all his assertions that she is a nothing short of a goddess in human form reinforced tenfold. The red shirt and under bust corset conspire to give her cleavage, and the more properly fitted breeches emphasize hips that, though perhaps still small, he cannot recall her previously having at all. Her hair has been brushed and pulled into a neat braid that falls over her shoulder, and it looks like she has attempted to wash a bit. She is a vision, and the thoughts that enter his mind, unbidden, at the sight of her are so perfectly _naughty _that he is glad she cannot read them. If she could, she would surely slap him for being an awful scoundrel, never mind the fact that it's all her fault if he is one. How could one girl – no, one _woman, _for surly those aren't the curves of a girl – manage to be such perfection, even with half one leg missing? Or perhaps that doesn't take away from it. The combination of very feminine beauty put together with the sword at her hip and the kind of injury normally obtained by rough, hard working men is somehow enticing. She is a feisty little mess of contradictions, and he would not have her any other way.

He's staring. He curses himself, tearing his eyes away and upwards – only to note that her smirk is no less naughty and mischievous than his thoughts are. Oh. Oh, she isn't, is she? Trying to play with him and using his own gift to do it? That's downright cruel, that is. A pure evil goddess she is, then, but a goddess none the less.

Emily clears her throat. "Well? Shall we?"

"What?" He asks stupidly, and curses himself again. "Oh, erm, right, yes! Off – off we go love." He steps out of her way. What is it about Emily that makes his silver tongue – that wonderful trait his father had passed straight down to him – turn to lead around her?

Her smirk turns into a full and unabashed evil grin as she makes her way past him, calling over her shoulder. "Jo, would you like to come along?"

The older woman slips out of the room and glances at Alex. Something on his face must give away what he's still thinking, actually trying very hard to _stop _thinking, because a smirk not unlike Emily's pulls at her lips as well. "Suppose it would be nice to get off the ship for a spell. I think I shall." She replies to Emily airily.

"I've already given the rest of the crew leave, as I'm not actually sure how long we'll be here." Emily continues the conversation with her new mate as though Alex isn't there. "Alex and I are off to see his grandfather straight away, apparently, but you can go off to find your own trouble if you'd like, Alex tells me Shipwreck Cove is quite the interesting place to explore." They go on in the same vein, chatting pleasantly as though nothing is too out of the ordinary. Alex doesn't realize he's not moved until Emily is already all the way down the hallway and preparing to go above decks. She turns to him, eye brows raised, that infernal smirk still set firmly on her pretty, kissable little lips. "Coming, _love_?" She lightly imitates him, and he has no doubt now.

She knows _exactly _what she's doing to him. He meets her amused brown eyes and glares at her playfully. _Pirate. _

She only smiles before slowly disappearing up the short flight of stairs leading above deck. Still trying to stop all the wicked thoughts she has running through his head and hoping desperately he's not blushing or something stupid like that, he follows.

* * *

><p>Emily, for her part, finds the old captain and Keeper of the Code to be rather… agreeable, if indeed a bit intimidating. He shakes her free hand, is quick to offer her a seat but doesn't treat her as though she's made of glass, and doesn't beat around the bush about her leg, which she finds refreshing. Everyone else up to this point, including and especially Alex, has been quick to pretend they don't notice the way that feisty little Emily has been reduced to hobbling around with a crutch, and only barely managing that.<p>

"My grandson was a bit vague on the details concerning your illness, had me expecting something a might different. You look well, considering."

"I am, sir. I can't figure how I've managed to regain strength so quick. I've thought it best just to be thankful and move on." She isn't actually in the habit of mentioning her goddess to everyone she comes across. She can never quite be sure how they'll react, and so finds it best to pretend she is simply lucky in most cases.

A smile seems to tug at his lips. Emily isn't sure what to make of that.

"A smart way to go about things. No use dwelling on what could be, aye? We can get you all squared away with a wooden replacement, sure enough. Won't be pretty, but it'll get the job done better than that." He nods at her crutch.

"I'm not much concerned with looks, sir, so long as I can manage with my sword again. Thank you."

"Anything for a friend of my grandson's. The boy spoke highly enough of you that I figured I'd have to meet you myself." Emily isn't quite sure what to make of this, either. He seems to be implying, well, _something_, but she has no idea what. He goes on before she has time to work it out. "I haven't had the chance to talk with Miss Ana again, but I have no doubt she'll come with quite a story to tell if what Alex told me is true."

Emily forces herself not to appear sheepish. She is young and female and currently quite the cripple; all she has going for her now is attitude. She must at the very least, she figures, appear confident. "It is indeed quite a story, and all hers to tell, but I don't think she'll be painting me as the villain. If that is what you were thinking, sir."

"Villain? That term is rather relative, Miss Turner, we're none of us innocent here. However, I would hope that you and Miss Ana did come to an understanding. She is an enemy you would not want."

"I don't doubt it." And somehow, she really doesn't.

…

The letter she writes to her brother is short, as there are many things that she wants to explain in person now that she knows she'll be able to, but affectionate. She does her best to make it very clear she is coming for him. As long as she can make him believe that, all will be well. She remembers all too well the feelings that accompany being abandoned – the hurt and the loneliness and the wondering. Joshy has already lost his mother. She doesn't want him to feel, even for a moment, that he is completely alone on top of it.

She and Joshy are all that's left of their family now. Even as broken as that family had been, the thought is every bit as frightening to her as she's sure it is for him. Thankfully, she at least is not left with too much time to dwell on it.

…

It's strange, learning to walk with a leg she can't feel. The whole thing is so frustrating she often wants to scream, at least at first. She keeps in mind what Ana said about Barbossa, and that spurs her along considerably. Alex comes around a bit, which also helps – he is infinitely patient with her, even when she insists he help her practice with her sword.

Practicing with him proves to actually be rather fun_. _She's not sure who actually taught him to use a sword, although she supposes it was probably his father, but whoever it was taught him just as well as her papa had taught her. They dance across the deck of the _Sea's Queen, _the perfect place for some privacy as her crew are staying ashore. Alex wins more often in the beginning than is to Emily's liking as she tries to get all her strength back up.

That changes quickly, though. Emily is persistent enough that she finds herself more and more able to keep up just as well as before. Until, one day…

"Hah!" She has him backed up to the railing, her sword at his throat. They are both soaked with sweat, chests heaving, and not too long ago Emily would have worried over it all, over how _un-ladylike _it was of her. But Adrienne is long gone now, and Alex has been teasing and flirting with her in a way that has given her some confidence. Perhaps, just maybe, he really does think her beautiful somehow, even now. "I do believe you've just been thoroughly beaten, Alex Sparrow."

"Have I, now?" He grins, _that _grin, the one that makes her heart skip a beat and sends a strange sensation working its way down through her body. Before she can process the fact that that particular grin is also his trouble grin, he grabs her wrist and twists – not hard, just enough to surprise her and make her drop her sword – and then pulls her forward, wrapping an arm around her waist. "I'll have ye know t'is never that easy with me."

She hits his chest playfully and tries not to smile. "Well, if you were anyone but _you _I would've won, easy."

"Oh?" He plays along. "And why is that, pray tell, love?"

She allows the smile to tug her lips up into a bit of a smirk as she leans in closer to him. "Because." She glances down at his lips. "Because I happen to like you enough to spare you your pride."

"Emily Turner." He feigns indignation. "I do believe you're implyin that ye _let _me win."

Her smiling eyes meet his. "And what shall you do about it if I did?" She challenges.

He doesn't say anything, but he does close the short distance between them, as though that somehow answers her question. Emily isn't complaining. His lips cover her own and he instantly deepens the kiss, bringing a hand up to rest on her neck. She has no idea how long they stand there like that, all but devouring each other's lips in a kiss that fast turns anything but innocent. She only knows that by the time they pull apart, they are thoroughly breathless again.

"Alex." She murmurs, resting her forehead against his. "Alex, is it possible I can have one of those a little more often?"

He presses his lips to hers again in a response that is entirely appropriate this time. "Whenever ye like, love." He concedes, and she kisses him this time, smiling against his lips, and everything is just so wonderful in that moment, so utterly perfect… that she supposes she should've known it wouldn't last. Because then he whispers something, so soft she barely hears it, but she knows somehow that she didn't hear him wrong. "_My love. I love ye."_

_I love you_.

And with those words, he manages to do the one thing that not anyone or anything else has yet managed to really do. With those three little words, Alex Sparrow brings her world as she knows it crashing down.

* * *

><p><em><strong>And you'll just have to wait to find out exactly why. I promise all the drama will be fairly over with by the end of the next chapter and then I'll give you a little more action again. I'm planning to have another glimpse of Elizabeth in that one too, so stay with me.<strong>_

_**I did a little bit of research out of curiosity. So, just in case anyone else is curious too: according to the website I went on the first three PotC movies took place somewhere in the vicinity of the 1720's to the 1750's. So, for the sake of keeping it simple, I'm saying 1720-1721 is when the first three movies take place, which puts current time with Emily and Alex some time during the year 1738. I'm not sure whether this will end up having too much bearing on the story, but I thought it was interesting none the less, so there you go. :)**_

_**Oh, and I have no idea if the outfit I describe for Emily is something that would've actually been worn by a woman then, but then again this story alone has a goddess and an immortal fish woman running around and**_** On Stranger Tides**_**had**** Angelica in her pretty little get up, so I'll just say 'this is fantasy people' and leave it at that.**_


	41. Moving On

_I love you_.

He had to say it. Why did he have to say it? Emily pulls away, stumbling back a few steps clumsily, trying to put some distance between her and Alex in a sudden panic.

"Emily?" He reaches for her, brows furrowed, chocolate eyes filling with hurt and worry. "What is it, what's wrong?"

"You love me. You – you _love _me?"

He doesn't hesitate, meeting her eyes again. "Yes. Yes, I do."

"No."

"What do ye mean, 'no'?" Now he's indignant, and she wishes she could make him understand why she can't, she just can't. "If – if ye don't feel the same, that's all well and good, but…"

"No! You don't understand, every time… _every time_…" It's just the last person to say those words to her was her little brother, and to hear them coming from Alex with such a different meaning…

The same way her papa had meant 'love' when he talked of her mother. The same way Jade had meant it when she talked of the man whose child she'd born, but who wouldn't marry her. The same way the _Flying Dutchman's _corrupted captain had once meant it when she talked of the man who was supposed to wait for her. It never ends well. That's why Emily has never allowed herself to put a name to the feelings swelling in her own heart for Alex. It _never _ends well.

"Emily." Alex murmurs again, a note of desperation in his own voice. "Talk to me, love. Please."

Her mind races as she closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. "One rule." She finally says shakily. "One rule, Alex." She opens her eyes back up and he is staring at her, searching, his face an unrestrained wash of emotions.

"Name it." He tells her.

"Don't use that word. Alex, you and I – we can be whatever you like, as long as you don't use _that _word." _That _word. She says it likes it's a curse she's talking about.

"Why? I don't understand, what are ye afraid of?" He's replaced all else with vehemence now, stalking closer to her. "After all those conversations we've 'ad, about not bein our parents, what's wrong? Don't ye trust me?"

"No." The word tumbles past her lips before she can think about how it will sound. "I mean," she goes on hastily, "it's not you, it's – I don't think I trust anyone that much, Alex." That doesn't help, and she knows it.

"And yet here I stand, havin enough trust in ye to tell ye – bugger it." He cuts himself off, turning away from her and kicking a barrel. "I shouldn't've said it."

"I'm sorry." Emily murmurs.

"Sorry." He chokes out a humorless laugh. "I'm beginnin to think me dad has things figured in this area better 'n I thought. I tell a girl I love 'er for the first time and all I get is a scoldin and an 'I'm sorry'." Emily doesn't know what to say anymore and is just preparing to make her escape when he turns back to her. "I'll ask one more time. Will ye run with me? S'not so bad an idea, if ye just think..."

"I have. Alex, really, I have. But…"

"But _what_?"

"But where would we go? Where could we possibly go that we wouldn't stand out somehow?" She chokes a bit on the word 'we', because she means herself more than him. She stands out. Of course, she stands out here too, in this world, but at least here that's not so bad a thing. At least in this world standing out can get her places if she's tough and quick and clever.

"We could manage. We could – we could go to the New World! No one would bother us in the colonies. We could try for an _honest _life and…"

"Stow it!" She cuts him off. "Alex, just stop it! I don't want to. Alright? I'll make it that simple. I don't _want _to!" All she does want right now is for him to kiss her again, to kiss her and forget about the L-word and to just go back to being her Alex again. "Everything I _do _want is right here for me now and I'm not going to just give it up because you suddenly decided to develop a proper moral compass!" That was harsh, too harsh, and she knows it the minute the words swim their way out into the open. She wishes more than anything that she could take them back. He stares at her, mouth open but no sound coming out. At a loss for further words herself, silence reigns until she steps forward to retrieve her sword. Then she turns silently and makes her way off the ship, slow and deceptively calm.

And then she runs.

* * *

><p>He stands on the deck of the <em>Queen <em>for some time afterward, trying to process her words. 'A proper moral compass'. It echoes in his head. A proper moral compass. He just doesn't understand. What is it she wants from him? She'd been jealous enough of Adrienne to try and kill the other girl, but then she panics when he tries to tell her how he really feels. So what is he meant to do? Would she be happier somehow if he was some kind of complete scoundrel? A part of him thinks he'd be willing to be one, to really become the part they'd both been playing, or at least to pretend it. If only it would make her happy.

He'd have given his _own leg_ in exchange for hers if he could've, just so she wouldn't have to work through what she is now, wouldn't have to suffer. Doesn't she understand? Maybe she really doesn't. She seems, in fact, oddly, _unable _to understand just how much he loves her. Like she honestly can't see why he would. And he can't seem to make her see.

There are clouds rolling in, thick and grey, and the air thickens with the promise of a storm. The darkening atmosphere matches Alex's mood as he finally makes his way back off the ship. He knows what he's going to do now. The arrangement, if his grandfather is agreeable to it, will hardly be permanent. But he's not sure he'll be doing himself or Emily any good by sailing with her, not now at least. They'll just drive each other mad, and Emily at least, he knows, has more important things to worry about. So he'll just…stay put. Maybe, if fate feels like being the tiniest bit kinder to him than it has been, something better will come along.

He rather doubts it, really, but without hope, he has nothing, so he pushes this thought from his mind as he heads off to see his grandfather.

* * *

><p>She spends maybe an hour or so in her cabin, sobbing quietly, unable to help it. She stops when the weather outside decides to match her mood, rain pouring down in buckets as thunder crashes and rolls. She's just thinking to go find Alex – to apologize again, to tell him that maybe he's right, to say or do whatever she must if only he will forgive her – when someone knocks on her door.<p>

She hopes, faintly, that it'll be Alex. "Come in." But she's not surprised when it isn't.

"Oh, dear." Jo says as she peaks her head in and catches sight of Emily. "This'll be more difficult than I thought. May I…?" Emily only nods. Jo slips into the room to sit next to Emily on her bunk. "I take it you and Alex had a row?" Another silent nod. Jo heaves a sigh. "So he makes me the bearer of bad news. I ought to give him a slap." She takes the mug she's holding – full of something steaming that smells faintly of honey – and hands it to Emily. "I think you'll be needing that."

"Bad news?" Emily asks quietly, excepting the mug absently.

Jo hesitates, looking exceedingly uncomfortable. "Just – do us a favor and don't shoot the messenger, alright?"

"Jo. What _is _it?"

"Alex… he's decided to stay here."

Emily's hand tightens around the handle of the mug, and for the first time she absolutely understands where that saying came from, because she is sorely tempted to reach for her pistol and aim for whoevers closest. She doesn't, of course. It's not Jo's fault. She can't blame Alex either. If anything, she supposes, the fault is hers. She loosens her grip again and takes a slow breath, in, and then back out.

"You're not surprised." Jo somehow deciphers.

"After the conversation I just had with him? Decidedly not." Emily brings the mug to her lips and takes a tentative sip. It is a sort of hot grog that she's recently come to discover she doesn't mind, watered ale with honey. The hot liquid slides easily down her throat, scratchy from her crying, and the sharp, bitter taste of the alcohol is made bearable by the honey it's mixed with. She takes another, heartier sip.

Jo is eyeing her. "Might I ask what I'm missing? You two have been thick as thieves ever since we got here, surely..."

"I don't think I could change his mind. That's what it's all about, you see, he's got it in his head now. He thinks he knows what's best." Emily takes another sip from the mug. "Why does it never occur to anyone that what's best isn't always…" She shakes her head.

"Got what in his head? You mean…he never intended to sail off again?"

"Oh, sure he did. Just not on the _Sea's Queen_. He wants to be off to the New World. Like somehow that will solve anything."

"Oh." Realization dawns on the older woman's face. "I see. He still wants you to run off with him."

"To put it simply, yes. And I said no. So – there it is." She stares down at the mug in her hands. "I can't blame him for being angry, but he could at least have come and told me that himself."

"You could always go find him." Jo suggests half-heartedly.

Emily thinks about it…but no. "If he wants to stay, far be it from me to try and stop him. I am not his…" She's not even sure what she'd _want _to be to him anymore. His wife? That's the only way the kind of closeness she wants with him would be appropriate, but she'd be terrible at that, being married. She thinks, at this point, she could be perfectly alright with _inappropriate, _the pirate in her almost reveling in the idea, but Alex doesn't seem to share her view anymore, if he ever really did. And that's not even mentioning the fact that marriage would require professions of love that they have just established she's nowhere near ready for. And, besides all that, even if she could convince him to stay, he'd likely only end up all the more unhappy for it, and she doesn't want to do that to him.

"Right then." Jo stands. "I'll just…"

"Could you do me a favor and track down the crew – my crew. My goddess, that's going to take some getting used to. Let them know we sail tomorrow, long as this weather is good and blown over."

"Aye, Captain." She replies. "I'll let Alex know too. If he's upset, maybe he'll come to his senses."

Emily rather doubts it, but refrains from saying that out loud.

* * *

><p>Even after Jo comes to tell him Emily plans to set sail tomorrow, Alex holds out hope that she'll come to talk to him. He supposes that he should maybe go talk to her – if only to get some kind of goodbye out – but he isn't sure of what sort of mood she's in. Jo had said she was upset, but with Emily that could mean anything, including anger. He doesn't want to fight with her again.<p>

He doesn't sleep much, spends most of the night praying to whatever god may be listening that the weather will remain bleak enough to keep Captain Turner and her crew from heading out. It doesn't happen, of course. By the time morning comes the sun is shining bright, and he strolls outside just in time to watch the hustle and bustle of fresh supplies being loaded onto the ship last minute. He can see Emily on deck, her petite, one legged silhouette distinctive, and decides he'll skip the goodbyes. He has a feeling he'll see her again.

The only real problem will be keeping her off his mind in the meantime.

* * *

><p>She thinks she's sees Alex the next morning, standing on the dock a ways away from the hustle and bustle of fresh supplies being loaded last minute. She'd held out hope the night before that he'd come talk to her, only letting it go when a restless sleep took her well into the night. She thinks that maybe she should've gone to talk to him, but she'd had no idea of his mood, and another fight with him had been the last thing she'd desired. She's tempted even now to go to him, but decides in the end to skip the goodbyes. She's been told that Sparrows have a tendency to keep popping up, like bad pennies; she has a feeling she'll see him again.<p>

For now she has a ship of her own, and a crew whose loyalty she needs to get busy earning. She only hopes that'll be enough to keep him off her mind in the meantime.

Emily can count on one hand the number of times she's ever been this nervous. She knows Jo was right in pointing out that a bit of 'honest pirating' is just what's needed right now. She needs a bit of adventure to keep her occupied now that they've made it out to open water and it's sunk in that Alex really is gone, at least for now. And the crew, her crew, are still trying to work out whether a young girl like her will do as captain. And the ship in the distance isn't too big, should be an easy target, perfect for practice, to see if she can pull this off from her new position. But she just can't help it. She hasn't had to work through a real fight with her leg yet and she's worried that no one will take her seriously anyway. But then, Ana was taken quite seriously, wasn't she? And Emily's already quite used to taking her queues from the older woman. Why stop now?

She's already decided to employ a tactic that Ana had never bothered with, as the _Sea's Queen _was on the smaller side and therefore faster than most other vessels – Jo had mentioned being able to sew, and Emily had thought to try something new.

With the _Queen _now flying a British flag, Emily puts on her old coat and hat, slipping into the stance she's learned to take when she's hoping to pass for a man – shoulders back to make them look broader, legs apart, hands clasped behind her back as she stands next to the helm. She thinks, perhaps, her wooden peg leg will be enough to finish the illusion off from a distance; it's not exactly an injury a woman would be expected to have.

It works twice as well as she'd dared to hope. Though the men on the other ship look a little wary, they allow the _Sea's Queen _to get much closer than would normally have been possible, giving them the benefit of the doubt. Some part of Emily thinks a decent person would feel bad for tricking them, but she ignores that part. It's not like she intends to sink them; in fact, Ana had taught her that if one was clever, few people would even be badly hurt.

Emily doesn't have as much experience as Ana, but she's clever enough on her own, it seems. She signals a greeting to the other captain, trying to make her intentions seem harmless though vague, watching his men carefully. Only when they appear to relax some does she order the _Queen's _fake flag taken down and warning shots fired.

Perhaps she's lucky. Perhaps the merchant's captain is as new to this as she is. Perhaps her little ship just doesn't look like much, so he's not expecting a threat. There could be any number of reasons why this works as well as it does. Emily doesn't question it as the _Queen _continues to pepper the other ship with cannon fire, her men already swinging over to the other ship. The air rings with the familiar sound of swords clashing, and Emily feels the extra nervousness drain away as she slips into the routine.

A few bold sailors from the merchant ship swing over to the _Queen, _and Emily greets them personally. Swipe, block, parry, stab when necessary. One of them ends up dead at her feet, but the rest will live to fight another day. The fighting on the other ship is beginning to wind down as the man who appears to be their captain surrenders. Emily sheaths her sword, preparing to swing over to the other ship and see what she has to work with…

And curses herself for it in the next moment. The sailor she thought was quite dead is apparently not quite dead – in fact, he's plenty alive enough to be standing behind her now, one arm restraining her, the other holding a knife to her throat.

"Filthy pirate _wench_." He growls in her ear. "Who do you think you are?"

Perhaps her anxious energy from earlier was warranted after all, then. The knife is pressed close enough to her throat that moving at all is not the brightest idea, but she can't just stand here, can she? Her hand – the one he hasn't managed to restrain very well – inches blindly towards the pistol at her belt. If she could just get her hands on…

"Ah-ah-aah." The sailor reaches for the pistol himself, and Emily curses him, but he never gets to it. The distinct sound of another pistol being cocked rings out from somewhere close by seconds before a bullet whizzes right past her ear – and, as such, probably _very _close to his head as well. Emily has no idea who fired the shot, but she's thankful to them whoever they are, as they've provided her with a much needed distraction. His grip on the knife at her neck loosens, she can feel it as the blade falls away from her neck a bit. Bringing up her hand, she grabs his and wrenches the knife free before he can regain his bearings – by the time he does, their positions are reversed, and she's knocking his legs out from under him using her fake one, the knife now held at his throat.

"Who am I?" She murmurs into his ear. "I'm the devil's daughter." She's not sure where this comes from, especially since her mother hasn't actually been on her mind as of late and the word 'devil' isn't even technically a correct title to put to the woman, although it has been used on her. It sounds frightening enough, though, that Emily decides to just go with it. "And you're lucky you're not already dead. Try anything like that again and you will be shot."

He manages a nod. Emily hands him off to one of her men, who drags him back to his ship as she wipes the blood from the small cut she can feel on her neck. Looking around in an effort to find out who fired a pistol at her – or the man who'd been about to kill her, depending on who the pistol belonged to – she spots none other than Jo Gibbs, standing with one hand on her hip, the other holding what Emily assumes is the weapon in question.

"Jo," she asks, brows furrowing in what is doubtless another perfect imitation of her father's favorite confused expression, "did you mean to miss, or were you aiming for…"

A smile tugs at the corners of the older woman's lips. "Of _course _I meant to miss, Captain. I'm a pirate's daughter. It'd be a right shame if I didn't at least know how to shoot, don't you think?"

"Quite." Emily decides not to ask, instead making her way over to the other ship as she wonders just how many other surprises her cook/unofficial-first-mate/quickly-becoming-best-mate has in store.

Landing on the merchant vessel, Emily allows the thump, step, thump, step of her own odd gait to be the only noise as the merchant's crew goes silent, all eyes on her. Surveying her prisoners, she lets them squirm a moment just for the fun of being able to, but never actually addresses them. They are all good and tied up now, her crew being well used to this routine after performing it countless times under Anamaria's command, and are no longer her concern.

"Alright, gents." She turns to her own men. "You know what to do…"

"By God, you're a woman!" Someone, the captain if appearances are anything to go by considering his clothing is somewhat more presentable than that of the rest, calls out incredulously, cutting her off.

"No wonder she's going easy on us." Another sailors speaks up, and Emily recognizes this voice. It's the sailor who was threatening to slit her throat moments earlier. "Women don't have the stomach for this sort of thing."

Emily strolls over to stand before him. "Beg pardon?" She asks, deceptively calm.

"You heard me." He glares up at her. "I'm surprised that boat of yours could even make it out of port with you at the helm, girl."

Now, she's angry. Taking out her pistol, she aims at his head, cocking it without hesitation. "Didn't I say, anything more from you…" She can feel her crew watching her. Ana hadn't been above a display like this every now and then. She hadn't _liked _it, but respect had to be earned somehow.

"Go on, then." The sailor says. "Shoot."

Deliberating a brief moment longer, Emily hardens herself. "As you wish." She re-aims the pistol and fires without any more hesitation – the bullet tearing through his arm, painful, but hardly life threatening if it's treated quick enough. He cries out in pain, but doesn't say another word. "Anyone else have anything to say, then?" No one else says anything either. Emily nods before turning to address her men again. "Take whatever we can work with," she pause, then adds, "dump the rest," out of spite.

They all mutter an 'aye cap'n' and begin scouring the ship. The job is done quick and efficient; when they're finished, Emily takes the sailors knife and throws it at the deck so it lodges between the captains kneeling legs before loosening the rope binding him, enough that he will just be able to work with his hands.

"You scum won't be able to get away with this much longer." He growls at her angrily. "The Admiral's got his fleet ready, and he'll succeed where the late Lord Beckett failed. I'll be happy to see you hang!" He's shouting after her, but she's already walking away, not even flinching at the two familiar names… even as her head is already beginning to spin. The Admiral? _The _Admiral? It couldn't be, not after nearly ten years. Could it?

Emily sends a glance downward as she crosses back over to the _Queen, _addressing the sea beneath her. _Honestly. With all due respect my goddess, don't I have enough to worry about? _

Her goddess, unsurprisingly, doesn't reply.

…

She makes herself dizzy going over his words in her cabin later that night. The Admiral. She hasn't heard the word used like that in so long, she almost wonders if she heard him wrong. She must have, surely…and yet, she can't really be too sure at all. If it is true, how did a merchant captain know anything about The Admiral? Or Lord Beckett? Or the Company at all, really? She doesn't know, and it keeps her up well into the night, begging her goddess to explain. She can feel Calypso's presence, attempting to be a comfort, but her silence frays Emily's nerves.

She doesn't like not knowing. The feel of her goddesses presence turns cautious, warning, reminding her of Ana's haunted expression when she'd told Emily of why she'd wanted to get to the Fountain, and Emily decides to let it go… for now, at least.

* * *

><p>The lovely, quaint little port of Whitebird bay is teaming with all its usual activity the day the <em>Sea's Queen <em>finally pulls into port, and Emily finds herself taking a considerable amount of comfort in the fact that some things never change.

For this task she finds herself seriously considering the dress still stashed away, now in the cabinet standing in her cabin. She actually knows the people here, and is somewhat worried about giving those who are older and getting rather frail an unneeded fright. On top of that, since Jade had been friends with quite a few women in the village to spite her reputation as a trollop, it was likely that one of them had been kind enough to look after Joshy – and probably wouldn't be too willing to give him straight up to Emily. Emily looking like the pirate that she is – wearing knickers and with her fake leg clearly in view – will certainly not help. She really doesn't want to put the dress on, remembering all too well how uncomfortable a full corset is, but in the end there's nothing for it.

This amuses Jo to no end – especially when the corset itself isn't quite as easily cinched as Emily remembers. It's just another reminder that Emily has only just reached the age where she can be considered a woman. She's done some growing over the past year and a half, and is finally beginning to gain a more womanly figure, although the curves are still slight enough that Jade would doubtless…

Emily has to remind herself that Jade is, well, worse than simply dead, and no longer around to say anything. Thinking ill of her is disrespectful and will do Emily even less good now than it ever did before, anyway.

"Must you look so _pleased_?" Emily huffs at Jo as she hikes up her skirts in annoyance so as not to trip when ascending the short flight of steps leading above decks. "It is not that funny."

"Not on your end, perhaps."

"Not at _all_. I can scarcely breathe in this cursed thing. Whoever invented such an evil contraption should've been skinned alive for it."

Jo laughs – actually _laughs – _at that. "Easy, now, it's not the end of the world. We slip into town, find your brother, slip back out with him in tow, and you can go straight down to change. Should take no time at all, right?"

"Hm. One can only hope."

…

The little cabin/blacksmith's shop is unlocked and quite empty when Emily reaches it with Jo, and Emily finds it to be rather eerie, to spite the fact that she'd hardly expected anyone to be here. She works her way through it, looking through things a bit simply because she now has the time to. The small trunk that had housed her father's things – and then, apparently, Jade's – is still filled with different odds and ends, letters and pieces of clothing. Emily smiles when she finds the shirt and breeches she used to sneak out in as a small child, and shakes her head when she finds the bottles of rum that had been hidden in there for who knew how long. She is glad to find that Joshy had indeed gone through it too; her letters and the money she'd been sending are missing.

The most interesting thing she finds, however, is a letter, hidden at the very bottom of the chest along with a necklace of all things; a simple chain of gold with several small teardrop ruby charms hanging from it. Too curious to wait, Emily sits on the small bed that once was hers and sets the necklace aside before unfolding the letter.

_Emily,_

_I know you are thoroughly convinced that I never liked you at all, and it is likely you won't believe me if I tell you otherwise. I am going to do so anyway, if only because I have a feeling this will now be my only chance to set things right. When I first met your father, I knew nothing of your mother, and was not at all aware that he was a married man. I saw only him, and you, and I wanted to help because it is so rare a thing for a man to care for a child quite the way Will did for you. I cannot say what my own actions would have been had I known the true circumstances. I am not perfect any more than he was. My intention here is not to justify myself, but only to tell you that I cared for you too, as if you were my own. If I was hard on you, it was only because I worried you would be too much the product of your parents. I was right, but I should not have been worried, I know that now. You have chosen the path that best suits you, and I cannot blame you for it. _

_I am not well, as I have not been well for some time, and they still cannot put a name to my illness. Caring for Joshua grows harder every day, so I am planning a voyage to England, to see his grandmother and aunt. With any luck, they will take him in, in which case you will never read this. If you are reading this, I have no choice but to ask that you take care of him, if not for my sake, then for his._

_The necklace is yours. Your father acquired it at some point during his own adventures before he disappeared properly. You left just before I was going to give it to you. _

_I wish you only the best, Emily._

_Jade_

Well. That was – unexpected.

"Captain?" Jo calls, startling Emily as she peers into the room. "Is everything alright?"

"Yes, yes." Emily folds up the letter and picks the necklace back up. "Fine."

"I talked to some of the woman in town. Your brother is staying with a Mrs. O'Malley."

Emily brightens a bit at this. "An elderly woman? Runs the general store?" Jo nods, and Emily smiles. "Good. This might be simpler than I first thought."

"You know this woman?" Jo follows her out onto the street.

"There aren't many here that I haven't at least met before, but Mrs. O'Malley was sort of special. Nosy, I suppose, really, but then it was pretty obvious when my father… well, anyway, she used to give me a jar of strawberry jam when I would come into her shop, as a gift." Emily stops in front of the small cottage just across the street from the one that had been Jade's. Taking a breath, as much has changed, Emily steels herself for any sort of reception, and knocks on the door.

Several moments pass, and then the door is opened to reveal a small woman with hair that is more gray than ginger, looking just as she always does with an apron tied over her dress and a bit of flour smudged on her lined cheeks, suggesting she has been busy in the kitchens. "Yes, good…" A smile had been on her lips, but it fades when she recognizes who is on her doorstep. Placing one hand on her hip, Mrs. O'Malley eyes Emily with wise green eyes, her gaze quickly turning guarded. Emily opens her mouth, but no sound comes out. She is taller than the older woman by several inches, has faced down pirates and navy men twice her size, and has managed to survive a nasty infection and the loss of her own leg… and yet any tough, more pirate-like attitude she would normally be sporting dissolves under the critical gaze of this little old woman. "Little Joshua told me about yahr letter, but I think we both had our doubts with the rumors that were told of yah." Her familiar Irish brogue would be a comfort to hear if Emily wasn't abruptly preoccupied with the realization that her original assumption was, apparently, correct. She was not to receive the warmest of welcomes.

"Rumors?" Emily asks, half-heartedly, then re-gathers her resolve. "If you'd be kind enough to allow me the chance to explain myself…"

Mrs. O'Malley eyes her a moment more, then slowly steps aside. "T'is only fair, I suppose. Come, come, you and yah're friend. I'll put on some tea." She bustles back inside, towards her kitchen, and Emily takes a breath, glancing behind her.

Jo turns to her with that eyebrow of hers raised. "Simpler than you thought, yes?"

"Oh, don't start." Emily huffs before slipping inside the house. "It's not my fault the people in this town can't seem to mind their own bloody…"

"Emily?" A familiar voice rings out, and Emily freezes, turning slowly to come face to face with none other than Joshua Turner. She's not sure what she was expecting. Some excitement, maybe? If that was it, she is sorely disappointed. The look on his face is hard in a way that is almost disturbing for a not-quite-nine-year-old, and his arms are crossed. "You came?" He says, cautious, as if he can't quite believe it.

"Of course I did." Emily stutters. Had he truly expected otherwise?

"To take me with you."

"That is why you wrote to me, isn't it?"

He shakes his head. "I'm not going anywhere."

Apparently, this was going to be even harder than she thought.

* * *

><p><em><strong>And that's it for now. Sorry that I lied, no Captain Lizzie in this chapter, it was getting long. She'll be in the next one, I promise. As for the letter from Jade, that was added in last minute, just because I thought her actions were never quite explained well enough. Thanks for reading. :)<strong>_


	42. Joshy

_"Emily?" A familiar voice rings out, and Emily freezes, turning slowly to come face to face with none other than Joshua Turner. She's not sure what she was expecting. Some excitement, maybe? If that was it, she is sorely disappointed. The look on his face is hard in a way that is almost disturbing for a not-quite-nine-year-old, and his arms are crossed. "You came?" He says, cautious, as if he can't quite believe it._

_"Of course I did." Emily stutters. Had he truly expected otherwise?_

_"To take me with you."_

_"That is why you wrote to me, isn't it?"_

He shakes his head. "I'm not going anywhere. Not with you."

Mrs. O'Malley comes to stand in the doorway to her kitchen and offers Emily a look that is somewhat apologetic, but says nothing.

"Joshy – I don't understand." Emily tries to keep calm. "Why send me a letter if you had no wish for me to come?"

He doesn't seem to know what to say, his face contorting in a mix of emotions. "Because. I wanted to see you."

Jo clears her throat and murmurs a few excuses before slipping back out the door. Mrs. O'Malley slips quietly back into her kitchen. Emily isn't sure whether she's thankful to be left relatively alone with her brother for this. "Walk with me?" She asks, because she is so nervous now, she feels she might explode staying in one place. "Down to the docks. I'll show you my ship."

He nods and follows her as curiosity wins out on his face for a moment. "_Your _ship."

The ghost of smile tugs Emily's lips upward. "My ship."

He doesn't say anything in return, seeming to mull this over, staring downwards as they walk. "How can you have a ship? I mean…how can it be yours?"

Coming from anyone else she would've been offended in some way. Coming from her brother, she knows it is just an innocent question. "That's…a bit of a long story actually. The person who had it before me was a woman too, would you believe that?"

"So it is true then." He murmurs, quiet enough she barely hears him. "What everyone says about you."

"I don't know. Why don't you tell me what everyone says, and I'll tell you if it's true?"

"Mother says you're just like papa."

"In some ways, perhaps."

"She said you were a pirate."

"Would you think that a bad thing?"

"Isn't it?" He looks up at her. "Pirates steal and do other bad things."

"True."

"Are you one?"

She isn't going to try lying to him, not that she is even sure of exactly what she'd say if she did. "Yes."

He nods, as if he'd expected that.

"Is that why you don't want to come with me? I would understand that. I only thought – we're all that's left, you and me." _For now, hopefully, _she adds only in her head. "You're the only family I've got. I didn't want you to think yourself alone."

"Family?" His brows furrow now, and he stops them just as they reach the docks, looking up at her with big green eyes. His mother's eyes. "I don't have a family with you. You left. Just like papa. Mum was right."

She doesn't allow the words to cut as deep as they should. He's just angry, she tells her self, and he didn't know there papa, so he can't truly know the force of those words. "Joshy – there was nothing left for me here. What would I have done with myself?"

"Mother said you could've married and – and she could've taught you to sew. You could've stayed, you could've! You just didn't want to." Emily cringes, both at the thought of being a prim and proper seamstress-housewife as Jade might've wanted, and at how absolutely right her brother is. Joshy goes on, little fists clenching. "I'm right, aren't I?"

"I'm here now." Emily replies quietly. "You can stay here with Mrs. O'Malley, if you wish. But you're mother asked me to look after you. And I, for one, would like to have the only family I have left by my side."

"Would you stay here?" He asks. "Could we be a family here?"

She finds herself flashing back to her last conversation with Alex, and her stomach twists. Why must everyone ask her for the one thing she's decided she won't do? Heaving a sigh – or, at least as much of a sigh as she can in the constrictive corset –, she reaches for her brother's hand. "Come. I want to show you my _Queen_."

He hesitates only a moment before wrapping his hand around hers. She leads him the rest of the way to her ship in silence.

…

Jo finds her later that day, perched precariously on the rail of the _Queen, _staring down at the ocean beneath her. Joshy has long since gone back to Mrs. O'Malley, leaving Emily with far too much time to sit and just think.

"I miss Alex." She says as Jo walks up. "He'd know just what to say. He always seems to know just what to say."

"I take it the boy's staying here?"

Emily nods. "It never occurred to me he'd be angry. I don't know why it never occurred to me… I mean, I was furious when Papa left."

"Give it a bit of time." Jo suggests, tone cautious. "He'll maybe change his mind."

Emily turns sharply to her. "Did you have a vision?"

"Well, yes, but…"

"Jo." Emily turns fully to her and hops down off the rail, meaning business.

"It might not be what I thought." Jo hedges. "Just – give it a bit of time." She says again.

"I've no wish to stay here unless…"

"Just one day, then." Jo insists. "Give him time to think."

"What did you see?" Emily demands.

"Will knowing that do you any real good? One day, just one. It can't hurt."

"Oh, very well." Emily huffs. "Well, if you won't tell me what you saw, you can come help me get out of this blasted corset."

Jo laughs softly as she follows Emily down to her cabin.

…

She debates with herself for some time when the next day comes and goes. Should she go say goodbye to her brother? Or should she just leave well enough alone, let him move on if he wishes to? Her heart twists painfully at the thought that he may not want to see her again. She hadn't expected everyone to approve of her actions, but she'd hoped her brother would at least understand. The fact that he doesn't just adds to the guilt that had already been niggling at her since she'd refused Alex.

She wanders through town as night falls, feeling cold and lonely in a way she hasn't since before she'd first joined Alex on the _Sea's Queen. _It is almost enough to have her joining her men for a proper drink in the towns single tavern – almost, but no. She's not that bad off. She ends up back in her cabin on her ship reading books she'd bought with her money, no matter how she'd earned it. In the end she resolves not to let anyone else touch her anymore. She'll do just fine all by her lonesome if she must.

Besides, she does have Jo, with whom she is getting along famously. She really must start remembering that, too.

…

She ends up leaving Mrs. O'Malley with the promise that she'll continue sending money, and then disappearing long before she catches sight of her little brother. Perhaps that is cowardly of her, but she fears it won't matter after this anyway. She's just disappeared into her cabin on the _Sea's Queen _again, deciding she wants to be left alone for now… when Jo decides to nearly knock her door down.

"Go away, Jo!" She snaps over top of the book she's not really reading.

"But Captain, there's someone here who – for the love of all that is decent and holy, girl, just open the door!"

Emily half storms across her cabin, more than ready to let anyone have it, even if 'anyone' is her only true friend at the moment. She opens the door, one hand on her hip, expression thunderous, and opens her mouth to say something not very lady-like… and is very nearly knocked on her bum when a wiry auburn blur barrels into her.

"Joshy?" She breathes in shock as her younger brother buries his face in her shirt. "Joshy, what are you doing here, I thought…?"

"I missed you enough the first time!" He holds her tighter. "Can I really come with you?"

"Well… yes." Emily slowly softens, wrapping one arm around his shoulders while the other comes up to smooth down his hair. "Yes, of course you can."

And although there are a million and one things that could go wrong with this and she won't exactly be setting the most respectable examples for him… Emily finds she has never been more relieved in her life.

* * *

><p>Captain Swan hasn't received a vision in so long that it takes her a very long moment to realize just what she's seeing.<p>

_Emily, her not-so-little-girl, standing before her with sword drawn, a terrified but somehow determined expression on her face. _

The goddess doesn't send her visions anymore, has made it clear that Elizabeth is on her own now. So what is this?

"_Mother. Mother, please." Emily is pleading, but her voice is low and steady. "I don't want to fight with you."_

Fight with Emily? Why would she want to fight with Emily?

"_I can't let you do it, Emily. I won't." _She hears herself say.

"_But I'll fix this. I have to fix this. Please believe me, mother, I know..."_

"_You know nothing!" _She snarls this time and feels a strange satisfaction when her daughter recoils.

A familiar, steady rhythm is being pounded out softly in the background, somewhere just behind Lizzie. _Thump thump. Thump thump. Thump thump. _She cringes upon realizing she is within feet of her heart, the cursed thing, and tries to turn and see…but she is forced to stay put.

"_Please. It would be so simple."_

"_Simple?" _Lizzie's tone turns mocking as she changes tactics. _"Tell me, just what is your plan, then?" _She begins pacing a slow circle around her daughter. "_Are you to replace me and give up the freedom you've grown so accustomed to? Or would you give up your Alex? He would give himself up for you, he's so in love, the fool." _She comes to a halt just in front of Emily again, realizing something._ "Or is it someone else you had in mind, an innocent perhaps, one who doesn't know what exactly is going on? Could you be so selfish?"_

She feels the echoes of what she will should this vision come true. She wants Emily to say yes. She wants proof – proof of what? Proof that everyone has it in them to be as nasty as she is? Some small, mostly buried part of her feels shame at this thought. She shoves it down, trying to bury it deeper.

_Emily squares her shoulders. "I would never ask Alex to do such a thing."_

"_Ah, but that does not leave out the third option, does it?"_

_Emily's expression gives nothing away. "Stop stalling mother. I need It. I don't want to fight you, but I will if I must."_

Lizzie feels herself draw her sword and bring it up to meet her daughters and they begin a dance across the deck of the _Dutchman _as the waters beneath start to roil and the clouds above begin pouring down rain in sheets. And that is how the dream ends. Lizzie finds herself, rather abruptly, back in her dreary cabin.

She's not immediately worried, even if her daughter will be looking for the heart in the near future. Lizzie had buried it on _that _island, after all, the one that was so obvious and out in the open that no one would look there, and especially not Emily. It's possible Emily doesn't even know it exists…

Although, she has been hearing things, interesting rumors about that ship, the _Sea's Queen,_ and her feisty young captain. If the descriptions are at all accurate, Emily has somehow taken the ship for herself, and has been all over the Caribbean. Even still, that particular island is small and often ignored. And Emily wouldn't know exactly where to look unless… Unless she had the compass. Does she already? Lizzie doubts it somehow, and has no wish to come face to face with her daughter at all if it can be helped. However, she cannot have Emily getting her hands on the compass.

Thin, slimy lips part to reveal sharp, jagged teeth in a manic grin. It appears Captain Lizzie has just found an excuse to pay one Jack Sparrow a little visit.

* * *

><p>An ocean away, as the <em>Sea's Queen <em>catches a good wind and Captain Emily Turner takes the helm after telling her crew they are headed for a rest at Tortuga. Jo Gibbs stumbles out on deck, skirts bunched in her hands and chest heaving as she climbs up the short flight of steps to her captain, looking panicked in a way that Emily has never seen before.

"We must not put in at Tortuga!" She says without preamble, sounding almost demanding.

"I beg your pardon?" Emily stutters.

"We cannot go to Tortuga! Please, anywhere but there, we must not go there."

"Jo, what in our goddess' name is the matter with you? It's been weeks since our last visit, I owe the men a break." Emily replies with finality, turning back to the helm.

"No." Jo's tone is turning a little _too _demanding. "You don't understand…"

"Then I'd suggest you explain." Emily cuts her off with a warning tone.

Jo glances around, as if only just noticing what a spectacle she's making of herself. Taking a breath, she smooth's out her dress and evens out her voice. "Forgive me, Captain. I only mean – I've had the strangest dream, and it's left me with a chill I cannot shake."

Emily pauses a moment to think on that. "Well, let's have it then, what did you see?"

"I'd rather not…"

"Jo!"

The older woman scowls. "What difference does it make? Our goddess saw fit to inform me we should steer clear of Tortuga for the time being. If that's not enough for you, _Captain, _far be it from me to argue." Spinning around quick, her black curls whipping out in the wind behind her, Jo disappears back below decks without further ado.

Emily watches her go and tries to figure out what on earth has just happened. She has never seen Jo that upset before.

"Well, gents." She calls out to her crew, all of whom are all still staring after Jo. "I suppose we won't be off to Tortuga after all." A collective of muttered protests follows, which Emily's answers with a glare. "I did not ask you. Back to work!"


	43. Captain Turners (Mis)Adventures

Emily's not sure what she expects Joshy to say or do when he first notices her leg, but she does find it a little odd when he doesn't say anything about it. At last, not at first he doesn't. In fact, it isn't until much later the first day, when she is trying to help him settle in for the night, that he finally points it out.

"May I ask what happened to your leg?" The question is quiet and tentative. He doesn't quite seem to know how to act around her.

"You can ask whatever you like, Joshy." She replies, offering him a small smile. "I won't bite, I promise."

He laughs softly. "Ok. Then what _did _happen to your leg?"

"That – is actually a very small part of a very long story, now that I think about it."

Green eyes light up a bit at this. "A story? Mother used to tell me all kinds of stories, the ones she said our papa used to tell you."

Emily is a little taken aback by this. Not because Jade had told him _those _stories; that doesn't surprise Emily at all. But it hadn't occurred to her that she already had one of her own to match them now, with mermaids and Blackbeard and a creepy moving skeleton. Explaining about her leg requires her to explain why she was on the rickety old ship where it happened, which requires her to explain about the rest of it or else none of it will make any sense. Actually, really, unless you'd seen it yourself or were a very firm believer in all things magical and supernatural, none of it makes much sense anyway, but still. Whatever Joshy chooses to believe, the story itself should be enjoyable enough for a nine year olds imagination.

So she tells it to him. She tells him about the mermaids, she tells him about the ship and all the treasure inside it and about Ponce de Leon and the map he wouldn't give up even in death. She tells him about the fountain, and she even tells him about the gray-crab-rock-thing and bottle full of the waters that she has. He listens intently, seeming to hang off of every word.

"…and, well, right. My leg." She holds it out and he looks down at it in wonder. "It – it didn't get better. It…" Trying to explain this part to a child isn't as easy as it sounds. "Made me very sick, you see. So…"

He nods, staring down at the wooden replacement. "I understand." He says quietly, green eyes suddenly filling with worry as he looks back to her. "It must have hurt."

"Oh. Well – yes. It did. But that's alright." She assures him. "It doesn't anymore." She reaches down to give the wood a few taps with her knuckles. "I'm – getting used to it now, slowly but surely."

Apparently satisfied, he nods and settles back into his hammock with a yawn. Emily stands and turns to make her way over to her own bed.

"Emmy?" He calls out his name for her quietly, and she turns back around.

"Yes?"

His brows furrow as he is silent for a moment, looking as though he wants – to ask her something perhaps? Emily doesn't know. "Thank you. For coming back for me."

"Of course." She says quietly, because she simply doesn't know what else to say. But that's alright; his eyes close, and he is asleep before she can think past it anyway.

…

It worriers Emily on some level, how quickly Joshy takes to this life. It takes him a bit to gain his sea legs; he is a bit ill on and off at first, though not nearly as bad as his mother had been. Still, he doesn't venture too far beyond Emily's cabin – now their cabin, because she hadn't liked the idea of him being anywhere where she couldn't keep an eye on him – for several days.

But once he does, he is all over the place. He particularly enjoys climbing the rigging, much to Emily's both amusement and alarm, and quickly finds a friend in the cabin boy, which Emily is glad of, but the whole situation proves to be much more awkward for her than for him. He is still very much a boy and therefore very much in need of someone to mother him. And Emily isn't sure how to go about doing that, particularly with Alex gone, because it seems that anything tender and warm about her left with him.

Which is why she finds herself all the more grateful to have Jo, who seems to be the mothering type simply by nature. Whenever Joshy gets himself into any sort of trouble or gets under foot, Emily can simply send him down to Jo in the galley. Jo doesn't seem to mind this arrangement, and so a routine is eventually settled in to.

The problem is, though, what he _learns _from the cabin boy, and from the rest of the crew. They are all basically pirates after all. And the more she watches him _picking a man's pocket seemingly just for fun as they slip by while wandering the streets, beginning to learn how to fight – and then learning how to fight like a pirate, cursing like a sailor when throwing a tantrum – using some phrases he'd learned from her, _she begins to realize something. Children learn, very quickly.

Perhaps, just maybe, _this _is why her papa had left her behind. Not because of anything she'd done, but because he was worried about what she'd pick up along the way. Watching Joshy, a part of her thinks she shouldn't blame her father for that. She wonders if he'd be ashamed of her now… but decides, looking out on _her _ship and _her _crew, that she wouldn't care if he were. She is happy. That, she decides, at least for now, is all that matters.

Anyway, she'll just have to settle for at least trying the 'do as I say, not as I do' approach with her brother for now. She doubts it will work very well, but trying eases her conscience…to some degree at least.

…

Where it starts exactly is anyone's guess. Hardly anyone calls her by her proper name anymore anyway; Joshy calls her 'Emmy' and without Alex she is 'captain' to everyone else. The face Jo makes the first time Emily mentions having heard it suggests the older woman may have come up with it. In any case, it likely started as a joke by someone that just happened to catch on.

The thing is, she quickly decides she doesn't mind. Because why should she? It's fitting though simple and obvious, and a bit more – pirate-y somehow. The name Emily sounds so proper and pretty, and Emily herself – well, doesn't feel very proper or pretty anyway, and wouldn't want to. And, all that aside, she has to admit it has an odd ring to it. So, where ever it came from and however it was come up with, Emily Elizabeth Turner – five months settled into her position as captain – becomes Peg Leg Turner.

Jo takes to calling her Peg, using it more often than she does captain. Emily supposes she _should _mind this…but can't seem to make herself.

* * *

><p>News of any kind reaches Shipwreck Cove faster than seems even possible. Within two weeks of Emily leaving, Alex begins to hear word of a small ship. There's nothing too awful special about what's being said; the ship is like any other pirate ship, raiding merchant vessels and generally being a nuisance. He tries not to be interested. Really. He does his level best to convince himself that he does <em>not <em>care. And certainly he doesn't listen in on any and every conversation involving the ships shrew of a captain.

Shrew. How perfect a word for her. Not that her being one is a bad thing. Just the opposite. He thinks she's magnificent when she gets going… But he's not going to think about that. He's not. She'd quite thoroughly rejected his affections and to think about it is nothing short of masochism on his part. So he's _not _going to think about it. Still, a part of him hopes for a bit that she'll come back. In fact, he stubbornly holds onto that hope for the entirety of the first month and well into the second.

And then he starts hearing about how adventurous she's getting. About how she's taking her ship and wandering out a little farther, perhaps towards Europe, apparently just in search of new adventures, but to his ears it sounds like she's running. Fast and hard, as far as she can get from him. And he's not stupid. Yes, he knows he'll see her again. But it won't be soon. And damn it all, she is still the _woman_. In the end, if she can move on like that, than so can he. So, when his grandfather offers to find him a place on a visiting ship, he agrees, because he has to find something to do with himself anyway.

Besides, that's what Emily wanted, right? A little more rogue? He's his father's son. He can do that, right? He certainly starts trying. And is quickly forced to admit a hard truth about playing the scoundrel; he's worryingly _good _at it.

* * *

><p>"Emmy?" The familiar voice sounds smaller than usual, quiet and shy in a way she'd thought he'd at least started to grow past.<p>

It's late into the night. What little moonlight there is to speak of is obscured a bit by a thin layer of clouds, the leftovers of a short but intense storm. She's not surprised Joshy sounds frightened. "It's alright, Joshy. It's all blown over now. You can go back to sleep."

Big green eyes look up at her as he hesitates, and he's giving her that look again. Like he wants to ask or say something to her but isn't sure he should. Emily is wet and quite exhausted, but isn't sure about retreating to her cabin just yet. She needs to be sure they haven't lost any of the crew and that the damage to the _Queen _isn't too much a threat, and then she can rest. She understands if Joshy is a little shaken, but…

Jo comes up behind her, clearing her throat softly. "I think we'll be alright now. I can come down and let you know if you're needed."

Those big green eyes are, admittedly, hard to resist. And Emily really is exhausted. She crosses the deck to her brother, who grabs her hand and doesn't let go of it until they are tucked safely back in their cabin. He's still giving her that look. Allowing her own curiosity to win out this time, she sets herself in a chair next to him as he settles back into his hammock. "You're always giving me that look. If you have something to ask, please ask. As I do keep telling you, I won't bite."

He chuckles softly, but it dies out quickly. "Mummy…used to sing to me. When I had a night terror, I mean, or couldn't sleep."

Ah. Now she understands. Unfortunately, she's not sure what to do about this. The only songs she knows are, for the most part, sea shanties and decidedly not what he's looking for. "I'm afraid I wouldn't know any of the songs she did. And I'm not much good at singing. Perhaps Miss Gibbs…"

"No!" He says as she goes to stand, forcefully enough that it startles her. Reaching out to grab her arm, he tugs her back to sit in the chair. "I mean… will you sing for me anyway? Please, Emmy?"

Heaving a sigh, Emily goes through the long list of songs she's heard, trying to think of one that would be right for putting a child to sleep. She comes up with only one. She's not sure how she really remembers it; she knows she heard her mother sing it on some occasion or another. Wherever it comes from, it is the only song that she thinks might at all work for her now.

So, with Joshy's hand still on her arm and his green eyes wide and hopeful, she sings.

_Over the mountains  
>And over the waves,<br>Under the fountains  
>And under the graves,<br>Under floods that are deepest,  
>Which Neptune obey<br>Over rocks which are the steepest,  
>Love will find out the way.<em>

_Where there is no place_  
><em>For the glow-worm to lie,<em>  
><em>Where there is no space<em>  
><em>For receipt of a fly,<em>  
><em>Where the gnat dares not venture,<em>  
><em>Lest herself fast she lay,<em>  
><em>But if Love comes, he will enter,<em>  
><em>And will find out the way.<em>

_You may esteem him_  
><em>A child for his might,<em>  
><em>Or you may deem him<em>  
><em>A coward from his flight.<em>  
><em>But if she, whom Love doth honor,<em>  
><em>Be concealed from the day<em>  
><em>Set a thousand guards upon her,<em>  
><em>Love will find out the way.<em>

_Some think to lose him_  
><em>By having him confined<em>  
><em>Some do suppose him,<em>  
><em>Poor thing, to be blind;<em>  
><em>But if ne'er so close ye wall him,<em>  
><em>Do the best that you may,<em>  
><em>Blind Love, if so ye call him,<em>  
><em>Will find out his way.<em>

_You may train the eagle_  
><em>To stoop to your fist.<em>  
><em>You may train in veigle<em>  
><em>The Phoenix of the east.<em>  
><em>The lioness, you may move her<em>  
><em>To give o'er her prey;<em>  
><em>But you'll ne'er stop a lover;<em>  
><em>He will find out his way.<em>

A rather ironic song for her mother to have sung. Or perhaps that was before her father… well. No use in her thinking about all of that. Moving as quietly as she can, as Joshy has indeed fallen sound asleep, lulled to it halfway through the song undoubtedly more just by her voice than the words themselves, Emily slips off to bed and falls quickly to sleep herself.

…

She dreams of Alex. It feels more like one of her visions, but after what she'd said to him, she dares not hope it is. Still, it is a very vivid, and undeniably wonderful, dream. He looks a little different in it. His hair has grown longer than it was, pulled back in a braid. There is a small gold earring in his ear, and some new tattoos. She doesn't pay much attention to the details of them, though, as she is rather more preoccupied with what she and Alex are doing in the dream.

His hands are sure and far more experienced than her own, but gentle as they trail down to certain places… his lips trail kisses along her neck and her shoulder, sending that strangest sensation down through her body… and then… oh!

She wakes with a start, her bed and night clothes damp with… she feels a blush creep up her cheeks, even though it is dark and there is no one around to see her or have heard her, if there'd been anything to hear. Goddess, she hopes there wasn't. Holding her breath a moment and listening intently, she is more than a little relieved to hear Joshy still snoring ever so softly across the room.

Some part of her swells with a newfound hope. That had to have been a vision. She could never have dreamed that up on her own, she'd had no idea how all _that _worked. Why her goddess would see fit to show her that, Emily is as clueless as ever, but she's not complaining.

In fact, she lays back down, tries to get comfortable again, and closes her eyes while half begging her goddess to maybe, just maybe, let Emily see – feel – _experience _that particular vision again.

* * *

><p>This is, admittedly, not the first time she's found herself in a jail cell.<p>

(Actually, technically, it's the third. But the first time was Alex's fault. And the second time involved a goat and a barrel of apples and a very angry old merchant captain…needless to say, the incident isn't spoken of.)

It just happens to be the first time she's found herself in a jail cell without Alex to come up with something crazy in an effort to get them out. Or to simply make her laugh. Things always seem better when he's around to make her laugh. But he is not. And she's not entirely sure how she's going to get out of this one. And she feels doubly awful, because Jo is with her, and the older woman is…well…panicking, just a bit.

"Jo, I can hear you pacing. If you keep it up you'll wear a hole straight through the floor, and I doubt they'd like that much." Emily is sitting with her back to the wall, head leaned back and eyes closed.

"I don't know how you can be so calm." Jo grumbles back. "You do realize where we are? What they do to pirates?"

Emily's not half as calm as she looks. She's only trying to appear so because… well, letting herself worry so, as Jo is, isn't going to get her anywhere. Keeping calm means she can think, and thinking means maybe, just maybe, a plan might form. "Well, we're women, and they won't necessarily _know _we are pirates. If nothing else…"

"What?"

"Could tell them I'm with child and I dragged you along with me as a midwife. Wouldn't be too hard to sell it."

The pacing stops abruptly. Emily opens her eyes lazily to find that Jo is standing before her, hands on her hips and one eye brow raised. "What? It's just a suggestion."

"You'd be lying through your bloody teeth, and you'd only be able to keep it up for so long."

"If they let us live I wouldn't need to keep it up for long. Long as we aren't stuck _in here_, there's a fair chance we could escape."

"Assuming there'll be someplace to escape to. You told the crew to keep to the code, didn't you?"

"Aye, as usual." Another more useful thing she'd learned from Ana – the Code. Now, Emily liked to think her men wouldn't leave without her. But considering where they were, she wouldn't blame them if they did, because she herself would only wait so long in their position.

Jo huffs, finally coming over to plop herself down next to Emily. "I hate pirates."

"Oh, don't give me that, you might as well be one yourself."

"Yes, well, I can still hate the rest of you."

Emily gives her a cute smile and leans over to rest her head on the older woman's shoulder. "Oh, come now, you couldn't hate me if you tried."

Jo rolls her eyes and huffs, looking down at her. "The reckless little sister I never wanted. This is the third time in as many weeks you've nearly got us killed, you know, I can't understand what in the name of our goddess has gotten into you." She says, half playfully.

"… It was a _very _pretty necklace. And you know how I can't stand these supposed fine ladies, they usually deserve it."

"Emily…" Jo's tone changes as she uses Emily's proper name, causing her to sit up straight again, bracing herself for a conversation she does not want to have. "You've already got that necklace you're papa gave you, you never take it off. And I know you're not so obsessed with such finery. It's something else, isn't it?" Emily says nothing, so Jo goes on. "Alex warned me about this, you know. He said you get like this sometimes."

"Oh?" Emily suddenly becomes immensely more interested in the ruffled sleeve of her red blouse.

"When the nightmares get too bad usually, he said. But sometimes for other reasons."

"I've no idea what he was talking about." Emily pauses, sighs. "But if you must know… this is the day...that my papa left, six years ago now. It gets harder to…not to think about things sometimes, that's all. Takes more than the usual distractions."

"Distraction? You call _this_ a 'distraction'? We might well hang come morning, Emily." Emily still won't look at her. Jo's tone grows hard again; she's learned quickly how to deal with Emily. "You know I hate to be harsh, but _God's teeth_ girl. You're really no better than your father with his drinking when you're like this. In fact, I'm almost inclined to think your way is worse."

Emily turns sharply to her, glaring harshly, and opens her mouth to respond… but never gets a word out as the sound of light footsteps echoes throughout the dingy cell block – along with the sound of jangling metal. Emily and Jo exchange a look, brows furrowed. It is the middle of the night. What few guards are on duty have yet to bother actually patrolling. So, who could possibly be coming?

"Emmy!" A voice exclaims in hushed tones, and Emily eyes widen as she jumps to her feet and darts across to the front of the cell. She can't hardly believe her eyes – its Joshy coming towards them, the large key ring held tightly in his little fist.

"Joshua Turner!" She chokes out. "What the _hell_ do you think you are doing?"

Joshy gives her a bit of a smirk. "Springing my sister from jail. Hello, Miss Gibbs." He holds up the keys and waves at the elder of the two women, looking a little too proud for Emily's liking, before he begins quickly trying each key on the door to their cell. Emily is rather speechless. He finally finds the right key and opens the cell door as the smirk grows some. "Problem, Cap'n?"

Oh, goddess. Sometimes she doesn't know what she's going to do with him. Jo speaks up when she doesn't.

"Well, I for one am certainly not complaining." She hikes up her skirts as she walks forward, pausing to ruffle Joshy's hair. "Good lad. Do you know which way to go?"

He begins leading them back the way they came. "I managed to get past the other soldiers, but with all three of us…"

A plan forms itself the minute Emily sees her sword and pistol, still hanging from her belt, which rests on a wall in a small alcove not far from where the nearest guards are stationed. She has no idea if the pistol is loaded, and even if it is, it'll only have one shot. _Think like Alex, _she tells herself. Crazy is just what they need right now. She hopes the pistol is loaded. She can work with one shot and a sword.

With Jo and Emily hiding as best they can in the shadows of the alcove, Joshy sprints around the corner and gets the guards attention, sounding frantic. "Help, sir, please, sir, it's my sister, she's – she's not well!"

The guards, as luck would have it, apparently don't quite have the heart to brush Joshy off with the excuse that Emily and Jo might well be hung anyway. "Alright, alright, easy lad, let's just see what the fuss is about." One of them says, and then sure enough, a tall man comes around the corner and heads off in the direction of the cell Jo and Emily had been locked up in. He doesn't even glance in their direction. Knowing they don't have much time, Emily nods at Jo, handing her the pistol. Jo slips around the corner quietly, and Emily can't know exactly what happens next. All she knows is what she hears.

"Oi! 'Old up there!" The other guard. The sound of the pistol being cocked. Several beats of silence follow, and then he laughs. "Surely yah didn't think they'd leave it loaded, did yah, now?"

Emily takes that as her cue. Slipping around the corner herself, she brings up her sword to hold at his throat. It's far more ungainly than a knife, leaving her to wish she had one of those instead, but it does the job well enough – he freezes, eyes widening.

"That's right." Emily says just as Joshy comes back around the corner and crosses the room to Jo. "Not another word." She takes his pistol and presses it to his back.

"You-you can't fire, there'll be others come running if yah do, yah'll never make it out then."

"You're going to sneak us out quietly." She says, forcing cold indifference into her tone even as her mind is still racing. "Because if you make a sound, I'll fire before they can get to us." She cocks the pistol for good measure. "Now, move."

Unsurprisingly, he does as he's told. He hesitates several times when they come to places where other guards are stationed, but all she has to do is dig the barrel of the pistol into his back a little harder and he starts moving again.

And then they make it out into the open, where Emily knocks him out with the butt of the pistol. And then they run, as fast as they possibly can for as long as they can manage, only stopping when they reach the very out skirts of town and the docks are in sight – along with the _Sea's Queen, _silhouetted in the moonlight. Still gasping for air, but now preoccupied with not knowing whether to be angry or proud or grateful, Emily rounds on Joshy.

"You… how did you even get in there?"

"I paid off the guard outside. It wasn't hard. I just told him all I wanted was to see my sister. He didn't ask questions once I showed him what I had."

Emily's eyes narrow suspiciously now. "And what exactly did you have?"

"…four shillings…"

"Four…" Jo sounds awed, her eyes widening almost comically. "Where did you get four shillings?"

Now Joshy looks appropriately sheepish as he tucks his hands behind his back and looks at the ground. "The men…around the tavern…were all rather drunk…and I guess I'm too young to be anything more than annoying, they didn't pay me any mind save for to tell me to shoo…"

Angry, proud, or grateful. Emily settles on some combination of all three. She'll have to weed out just which of her crew thought it a good idea to teach her brother to pick pockets so well. "Joshua Turner." She kneels down so she's at his level. "Thank you." He looks at her again, his eyes lighting up as he throws his arms around her. She chuckles and presses a kiss to his temple, but pulls away when she hears the commotion of some kind back the way they came from – men yelling mostly, but even that isn't a good sign. They need to move. She looks Joshy in the eye, affecting her much sterner 'I'm the captain' sort of tone. "Now don't you _ever_…"

"Do anything like that again? That's what you _always _say."

"Joshy." A warning tone now. "Understood?"

He straightens up a bit, but his eyes still dance with mischief. "Aye, Cap'n."

"Good. I do mean it. Now come on."

They make it back to the ship just in time. By the time the docks begin to swarm with activity, men preparing to go after Emily and Jo, the _Sea's Queen_ is disappearing over the horizon just as the sun rises. Thankfully, news of their more recent adventures hasn't quite traveled this far yet. If it had, they might think to follow her anyway.

* * *

><p>That merchant captain is not the last to mention the Admirals name in the months that follow. At first she hears it only here and there, sailors talking of rumors, things they've heard but can't possibly confirm. But then it starts to come up a little more often. The captains on the ships she takes begin giving her the same speech. The Admiral has a plan. It won't fail this time. She'll be hung.<p>

It scares her a bit, yes. It more so just makes her angry, though. Angry enough, in fact, that she allows her men to be a little more careless when they take a ship. If they can't work with anything the ship is holding, the cargo is dumped. If any of the sailors gets too brave, they are shot – though, she at least tries to ensure, not fatally.

She loses some battles, of course, but she wins far more. Possibly just because she has a goddess on her side. Possibly because she perfects the routine a little more every time, learns how to scare men on the other ship. Pretends to be ruthless, and gets very good at the game. Always she manages to get her ship and crew away fairly unscathed.

The name Peg Leg Turner somehow spreads. Her little _Queen _starts to become well known. She only begins to worry when she herself starts to become recognizable though. With her leg, the name becomes a problem, quickly. She's not sure she's anywhere near ready to deal with the same sort of infamy her Uncle has gained.

Which is why she starts to venture out a little farther. There are, after all, plenty more interesting parts of the world to explore. And, besides, she's quickly finding that she needs more than the routine she's created to keep her mind off of, well, other things.

Other things that often include Alex, and the fact that he is not with her. But she's not going to think about him.

Her mind is somewhat more occupied with her brother, at least. She's begun teaching him how to use a sword. He doesn't take to it quite as easily as she did, but she teaches him to practice just as often as she was taught to, and he seems to try his best when she tells him about their father and how good he'd been with a blade. Still, she tells him to lock himself in her cabin when they approach another ship, just as she has from the beginning. He begins to protest the more comfortable he grows with her, but she insists.

She's already, somewhat inadvertently, turned him into quite the mischievous little thief. If he somehow gets hurt on her watch, she'll really never forgive herself.

* * *

><p>"If Alex is still there to put in a good word Captain Teague might be willing to offer some protection. Shipwreck's a fortress, Peg, we'd be safe…" Jo follows Emily as she stalks across the deck of the <em>Queen, <em>trying to talk some sense into her. The Captain's frustration is apparently quite visible, as the crew takes care to stay well out of her way.

"Until, when, Jo?" She rounds on the older woman just before the steps leading up the helm. "How long do you propose we go and hide away?"

"Until we can come up with a better plan than the one you've got now! For heaven's sake, girl! We stay out in open waters like this for long now and we'll be sunk!"

Several of the men nearest to them pause in their work to glance at the pair upon hearing this. Emily's scowl alone is enough to send them back to work. "Jo, why don't you just trust I know what I'm doing? Have I ever steered us wrong before?" Jo raises a single eyebrow at this, placing both hands on her hips, and Emily knows she's in trouble now. The older woman opens her mouth, but Emily cuts her off before she can start. "On second thought, don't answer that."

"I understand you don't want to see Alex." Jo says instead, rather bluntly. "But this is foolish. If nothing else, think of Joshy. What'll happen to him if you get yourself caught, or worse?"

Thinking on this, Emily turns to look over at her brother as he crosses the deck with a bucket in hand, sloshing water as he goes about doing his chores with the cabin boy. Jo has a point. A good one. And Emily knows it. She is being stupid. She knows this too. But she's not sure she wants to see Alex again. The dreams she's had of him – she worries that too much can have changed in more than a year. Would he even want to see her?

She doesn't know. But not going with Jo's idea simply because she wants to avoid a run in with him is entirely selfish of her. And that kind of thinking, she's already learned, doesn't get you so far when you're the captain.

"Alright." She growls finally, to Jo's visible relief. Turning to head up to the helm as she had originally intended, Emily takes over and sets them on a course for Shipwreck Cove.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Alright, so, feeling a tad confused? That is perfectly alright, because it will all be explained in the next chapter. And we'll get to see Alex again! I've kind of missed him, I have to admit.<strong>_

_**Anyway, I believe I mentioned somewhere in a much earlier chapter (before the long hiatus I took from this story) that it would only be a year before things with Lizzie and Emily and Will would start to come together. Not sure whether you guys will remember that or not… but I obviously lied. Sort of. I've rebooted things a little bit. I needed to give Emily plenty of time to settle into her role as captain and gain some confidence, and Alex some time to grow too. I'll have to go back eventually and fix those 'before' chapters, but I've got things flowing well enough again that I don't want to do that just now, so just bear with me, please? Things will start moving forward again in the next chapter.**_

_**Also, you've no idea how long it took me to find a song that would've actually been sung during this time period. Honestly, considering you can usually find **_**anything **_**here on the internet, it took way more work than it should have. Or maybe I'm just lazy. Either way, the song I did find actually fit very well, so it was worth it.**_

_**The site I found it on (minus spaces, of course):**_ www . contemplator england / lovefind . html

_**Reviews are nice, but thank you all just for reading. Happy Easter! :)**_


	44. Time to Play

By the time they actually make it to Shipwreck cove, Emily is torn between being excited that she may get to see Alex – and so much dreading getting to see him that she hopes he'll be gone. It's entirely possible that he will be. Her goddess had sent her visions of him on and off, visions that suggested he'd found a place on another ship and was off finding his own trouble. (In fact, it was the trouble the visions hinted at him finding that had her half hoping not to see him.)

She wishes this wasn't necessary, that she hadn't been so careless. To be fair, she'd had no real reason to think The Admiral would have had any interest in her beyond her kidnapping as child. As far as she had known, his only interest in her then had been to use her to get to her parents. Still, with his name being thrown around from the very beginning as it had been, perhaps she should have…

"Stop." Jo says from somewhere just next to her, startling Emily out of her reverie. They are on the deck of the _Queen, _where Emily had been staring absently out to see for the past several minutes.

"Stop." She turns to the older woman with a blank face. "Stop what?"

"Thinking. You do too much of it. I know you've been going over it all non-stop since you finally agreed to come here."

Emily scowls now. "I _can't _stop thinking about it. I have to find a way out of this mess somehow."

"You will." Jo replies, as though she has no reason to even half think otherwise.

"Not sure I deserve such confidence, but thanks I suppose." Sighing, Emily turns to head off the ship. "I suppose I'd better go see about having a talk with Captain Teague, then."

"Oh. About that." Jo stops her, a little too offhandedly.

Emily turns back to her warily. "Yes?"

"I may have taken the liberty of sending a short letter when last we made port. It may not count for much, seeing as Alex could very well be long gone by now. But if he's here or has been here, Teague already knows about our – situation. Probably."

Emily pauses, letting that sink in. "Jo." She says slowly after a moment. "We haven't made port since just _before _I agreed to come here."

Jo looks appropriately sheepish. "I knew you would agree, eventually. Also figured you'd avoid any contact with Alex, but we may need someone to plead our case."

Emily huffs. "Why is it you're the only person on this ship who insists on treating me like I'm still a stubborn child?"

"Because you insist on occasionally still acting as one." Jo retorts. "And if I don't say something no one will."

Emily scowls before turning to head off anyway.

* * *

><p>"You can rest easy, Captain, if this Admiral knows of Shipwreck I can near promise he wouldn't dare come here." Teague gestures for her to have a seat. He's already seated, strumming a guitar almost absently. "Please."<p>

Emily takes a breath to calm herself some as she sits. "So then, you'll allow us to stay? It won't be for very long. It's just I have my brother with me now. If I were to be caught… well."

"Aye, aye, you can stay. Alex already explained it all." He waves her off. He's still strumming away on the guitar, seeming to give her only half his attention, but she isn't fooled any more than she would be with Alex. "He's here, you know."

"But I thought – that is, I _figured _he'd have found another ship to take him on by now. I certainly didn't figure he'd be here." She really is rather surprised. Why would he have come back?

"Well, he did at that. The ship was one of mine, makes berth here in Shipwreck. It was just luck, I suppose, he happened to be here when that letter arrived."

Luck. Emily doesn't believe in plain luck anymore. She sends her goddess a silent thank you…and takes a moment to wonder at the fact that Teague apparently has more than one ship at his command. "Yes, yes, very lucky." She replies out loud. "May I ask – has he spoken of me?"

"He has." Now he glances up at her. Just like last time she talked to him, he seems to be implying something, as though he can tell something she can't.

She hopes he'll elaborate – but he doesn't. Sighing softly, she stands. "Thank you, sir. I'll leave you in peace then." She turns to leave.

"Captain Turner." He calls, and the guitar stops. She turns back to him, a little wary. He eyes her for a moment, in a way that unnerves her more than a little. "You're brother. If it's a safe place to stay you'll be needing for him, there ought to be few places safer than here. I've a maid with boys of her own who gets lonely now they're off on their own, she'd be only too happy to look after another for a time."

That was – unexpected. Why would he make such an offer? She bites her tongue to keep herself from asking. She needs options more than anything right now, especially when it comes to Joshy. Her main concern now is for him, always for him. "Thank you again, sir." She nods, and then makes her escape.

* * *

><p>"Permission to come aboard, captain?" That voice – all too familiar, though she hasn't heard it in ages. It stops her in her tracks, freezing her right where she is as her heart skips a beat.<p>

She's only just boarded the queen herself. It's not as though she hadn't been waiting for this. She'd even convinced herself she was ready for it, had thoroughly prepared for it. She'd stayed on the ship the night before, going through the trouble of drawing herself a bath. She'd braided her hair nice and neat that morning, tying it back in a bandana that matches the color of her shirt, which is the tunic he'd bought her, the nicest of the three she now owns. She even has the pistol she'd stolen from that jail guard some months ago – a newer and somewhat fancier model than her original one – tucked in her belt just for show. Taking a breath, she forces her limbs to get moving again, straightening as she turns back to face the docks. She is Captain Turner. Peg Leg Turner. She'd spent the last several months taking the Caribbean by storm. Her name alone is enough to have honest sailors start to worrying at the very least, if she'd done her job well enough. Alex Sparrow is just a boy. Nothing she can't handle.

So, then, why is her heart trying to pound its way right out of her chest?

"Alex Sparrow." She says when she spies him. He is standing on the docks, just before the gang plank, and giving her a grin. Not his trouble grin at this point, just a plain, happy grin, if a somewhat hesitant one. Which helps her relax some. He certainly seems happy to see her. "Since when do you have to _ask _to board my ship?" She responds playfully.

The grin widens a bit as he strolls up the gangplank, and she takes a moment to get a good look at him. He's – grown. Not taller; he has enough height to him already. But he's not quite as wiry as he was. His shoulders have grown broader, she thinks… not that she has any particular reason to care about any of this.

He sweeps across the deck once he reaches it, with just the hint of a swagger in his step. Before she can register that the grin has become decidedly more troublemaker, he's already sweeping her into strong arms – and yes, he's definitely grown stronger, do boys ever stop doing that? she wonders. He scoops her up effortlessly and spins her around once before, to her utter shock, placing a kiss right on her lips, in front of all her crew, as if they were some kind of lovers and hadn't been apart for more than a year to boot.

He smells of the sea and, faintly, of rum. His lips taste faintly of the spicy liquid, as well. He is smart, pulling away long before she can start to over think things (as she is, according to Jo, won't to do) and she feels a deep blush creep up to color her cheeks as her crew cheers and laughs. "Miss me, dearie?" He has the nerve to ask as she stands speechless for a moment.

She has half a mind to slap him, but ultimately decides on a different approach. Slipping an arm up around his neck, she pulls him forward so their lips clash again. This kiss doesn't last long either; she pulls away and mimics his grin from earlier. "Mmm, well I certainly missed _that, _if nothing else. Nice to see you too, Sparrow."

Louder cheers erupt from her crew. She turns to address them with a half-smile still on her lips. "Alright you lot, back to work, it's nearing sundown and I want those repairs finished by tomorrow!"

Alex doesn't skip a beat, wrapping an arm around her waist. "And ye're comin with me."

"Oh, am I? You know, I do have a ship to run _here._" But she's not really protesting, and he's already leading her back off the ship.

"I 'aven't 'ad the pleasure of ye're company in far too long for ye to get off that easily, _Captain Turner_." The way he says it, playful, almost mocking. She scowls. He glances at her, raising his eyebrows. "Or would ye prefer Emily? Or what was it Jo's gone to callin ye, Peg?"

"I'm almost quicker to answer to the first or the third, now. I really _am _a captain, you know. Or were you always half convinced that was some sort of joke somehow?"

His tone becomes marginally more serious. "Oh no, the more I 'ear of ye, the more I've worried 'bout just how real 'tis."

Emily doesn't quite know how to respond to that, so they walk in silence to one of Shipwreck's few small taverns. He sits her down off in a quiet corner. "How about a drink?"

She first thinks to ask for her usual hot mixture of watered ale and honey, but then she remembers the rum she'd smelled and tasted on him. "I think I'm in the mood for something a might stronger." She replies airily, on that same strange impulse that sometimes takes over her. "I think rum would do the trick nicely." She gets exactly the reaction she was hoping for. He looks surprised, not for too long, but she notices and smirks a bit. "Problem?"

The look fades just as quickly as it had come. "None at all, dearie. Rum it is, then." And he slips off to fetch their drinks.

'Dearie', she notes it is now. Not 'love'. Dearie. This bothers her, though she refuses to dwell on why. Alex comes back moments later, two full mugs in his hands. He hands one to her before he sits and drinks from his, looking as though this is an entirely normal thing. Except it really isn't, and she catches him eyeing her over top of his mug with brows furrowed ever so slightly, trying to figure her out. Wanting to keep him guessing, if for no other reason than because he seems to want to play with her now, she drinks as well, and even manages to hold back a grimace as the firewater burns its way down her throat. Entirely normal.

"So, are ye going to tell me what is going on, or must I go drag a more thorough explanation out of Jo?"

"There isn't too much to tell, I'm afraid, I'm not entirely sure what's happening here myself." Emily stares down at her mug.

"Jo's letter suggested they'd caught ye." He pries.

"Aye, they did. Not for very long…" She trails off and takes another small sip from her mug, stalling. "This ship – it was huge. Easily as big as the _Revenge _had been. I gave myself up to them. They promised not to fire at the _Queen_ and said they only wanted to talk, and of course I hardly trusted them, but I couldn't exactly say no either. They took me down to the brig."

"And?" Alex pries again, but a little more gently.

"A man came to question me. I don't know who he was. But he asked me all sorts of strange things, none of which I had answers to. He didn't immediately believe that, and, well…" She really doesn't want to explain all of this. She hadn't done so for anyone other than Jo. She takes another, heartier sip of her rum, and notes that the taste becomes somewhat more bearable the more she drinks.

"I'm sorry." Alex says. "I shouldn't've asked. Really, I just wanted to know how ye managed to get away."

Now Emily giggles softly. "What is that story of Uncle's? Sea turtles?"

Alex breaks into his own grin. "Ah."

"What about you, then?" She asks, leaning forward on the table. "Goddess knows you must have some things to tell me with all the trouble that seems to follow you around."

They stay like that for what could be hours, just – talking. As though they'd never had a fight like the one they'd had and had never been apart at all. Except they had. And it's left a strange sort of awkwardness that Emily can't quite shake. She'd missed him so much it had hurt at times, and had gone over what she'd say to him once she saw him again perhaps a hundred times over. But in all that time she hadn't accounted for him being quite so – different. The display he'd put on earlier, the way he's avoiding the word 'love'. The way he's flirting with her. The fact that he's rather freely enjoying his rum – and seems to be keeping a close eye on her as if trying to confirm the rumors he's heard of her.

She flirts right back shamelessly and drinks just as freely. Because if he could simply pretend they hadn't fought like they had, then she certainly could too, and she is just as much a pirate as him. If he's looking for her to say to sorry or anything silly like that he'll be sorely disappointed. Somewhere along the line it becomes some strange sort of competition, as though each suspects the other is putting on a bit of an act, and each are trying to see how far the other is willing to take it.

Emily starts to sort of enjoy this little game sometime after she makes it halfway through her second mug of rum. She'd been so tense the past days, worried about all that was beginning to happen; could anyone blame her for stopping to have some fun, anyway?

…

To be fair, Joshy was _supposed _to be with Jo for the night. Emily had wanted to keep him out from underfoot with the work being done on her ship. And the ship itself was supposed to be empty, as she'd given all her men leave as soon as the ship was squared away. In fact, it _was _empty as near as she could tell when she slipped aboard with Alex sometime later that night. Although, frankly, neither of them were paying attention to anything but each other at that point. He was only supposed to walk her to her cabin, though.

Emily would later, of course, vehemently deny being drunk. But she was. And so was Alex. And neither of them cared. So of course, he didn't leave her as he should have.

Because she pulls him into the room with her and stumbles a bit and ends up in his arms, looking up at him. "Alex Sparrow." She murmurs – breathes – slurs – perhaps it is some combination of all of those.

"Yes, _Captain _Turner?" He asks. He doesn't seem hesitant. Doesn't suggest that he should leave. In fact, he pulls her closer, and he's staring rather pointedly at her lips.

"I-I missed you." She can hear her words blurring together. She should tell him to leave – why should she tell him to leave? She can't remember any of the good reasons she would've, probably, had.

A smile tugs his lips upwards. "Did you, now?"

"Goddess, yes." She steals a glance down at his lips. "Missed you and you're kisses. Didn't get nearly enough of those, you know."

The smile turns to a smirk. "I agree." He brings a hand up and his touch is feather light as he brushes a stray strand of her dark curls back behind her ear. "I believe this error should be – rectified forthwith." He says grandly, but his words are slurred too, and she giggles until his lips cover her own…

And she wishes more than anything that that particular dream she'd had would come true _now_. And for a wonderful, wonderful moment, it looks as though it just might. He backs her up towards her bed as his hands fiddle with the belt at her waist, taking it off and throwing her affects aside carelessly as she does the same with his. And then his vest is gone. Her corset takes a bit more effort, but it comes off too eventually. And then he unties her bandana and discards it before pausing just long enough to let her hair loose so he can run his hands through it. And he hasn't stopped her and she pulls him in for more hungry kissing. In fact, he seems rather intent on making sure they keep going. So intent, in fact, that he reaches for the nearest pistol and aims it at Emily's door when it opens.

Knowing it's most probably Jo – no one else would just walk right into Emily's cabin like that – Emily doesn't even bother turning towards the door. "Not. Now." She breathes as Alex carries on, trailing kiss along her jawline and down her neck and along her shoulder as he brushes her shirt back…

"Emmy?" A young voice asks, quiet and hesitant, startling both of them. Alex pulls away, brows furrowing in confusion as he turns the door – and lowers the pistol, obviously startled.

"Joshy." Emily takes a few regretful steps away from Alex and tries to pretend she is perfectly alright even as the room seems to spin a bit without Alex's strong arms to steady her. "What – what are you doing… you should be in bed."

Joshy opens his mouth but seems a little speechless as he stares at Alex with that same hard look he'd given her the first time he'd seen her again. Footsteps echo down the hallway behind him and then Jo too appears in the door way. "I'm sorry, Peg, he woke up an awful mess, crying out in his sleep, and…" She trails off as realization dawns on her face, looking between Emily and Alex. "Well."

Emily runs a hand through her dark waves, vaguely worrying about what a mess she and Alex both must look. She supposes she should be more embarrassed. Really, she can't bring herself to feel anything more than annoyed that she'd just come so close…

"I'm sorry, Emmy." Joshy says. "I had a bad dream. It was mum and the fish people again." He's still eyeing Alex, who has both eyebrows raised at the younger boy as if just daring him to make the wrong comment. "I'll just… go back with Ms. Gibbs. If you want." But he doesn't really sound or look like he intends to go anywhere.

Jo has that eyebrow of hers raised as she eyes Emily knowingly. "Perhaps that would be best, dear. I can sing to you tonight."

Those big green eyes… Emily can't send him away. She just can't. "No, no, that's alright." She tries to sound a little more coherent. "If you could just give me – us – a moment."

Jo seems to be some combination of amused and annoyed. She shoos Joshy away and turns to narrow her eyes at Emily. "You could've come and warned me."

"It wasn't – I didn't think we'd…"

She only rolls her eyes. "Next time just tell me you'll be off with Alex. Heaven knows that's all you'd _have _to say." And with that she makes her exit.

Emily turns to lean in to Alex again, resting her head on his chest. "How I'll ever explain this to him is beyond me."

Alex gently pulls her chin up to kiss her again, and she forces herself to pull away. He scowls. "Well, what's it 'e wanted, for ye to sing to 'im? Why don't ye sing to 'im an' then send 'im away again."

"Cause. Sounds too much like something my papa would've tried." She picks his things up off the floor and shoves them at him with a pointed look. "Good night."

He pouts a moment, but she refuses to give in, so he begins redressing himself. She only tucks her shirt back in and makes a sluggish trek around the cabin, picking up her things and shoving them aside carelessly. "I'll see you tomorrow?" She asks, perhaps a bit more hopeful than she means to, but she can't help it.

"'Course." He replies. "Have to meet yer brother proper some time, won't I?" He gives her a bit of a grin again, pulling her forward to plant his lips on hers one last time. "And I do intend to finish this." There is a bit of a growl to his voice this time, and it's almost enough to make her want to forget about Joshy and get lost in Alex again. But he pulls away this time and heads out and she plops herself onto her bed with a long suffering sigh.

To her surprise – and immense relief – Joshy doesn't ask questions. He just comes in, sits next to her so she can run her hand through his hair soothingly as she sings to him, which she manages to do fairly well considering. Then he scuttles off to his hammock with a yawn. She doesn't know if he falls asleep again or not – she collapses into bed just as she is, pausing only to take off her leg brace, and is dead asleep just as soon as her head hits the pillow.

If she'd been thinking a bit more clearly she would've noticed how preoccupied her brother seemed.

* * *

><p>She sleeps like the dead, but her mind never stops. Her dreams are confusing and fuzzy. First it's just a memory, the first time she'd ever caught her father with Jade in his arms. The comparison tries to make itself with what had just happened with Joshy, but she refuses to let it. She isn't already married, which makes all the difference, never mind anything else. At least, that's what she tells herself.<p>

Then she dreams of her mother. She dreams of actually _seeing _her mother; of pouring rain and a small spit of land that barely qualifies as an island, and a sword fight in the wet sands. No actual words are exchanged, but above all else Emily swears she hears an all too familiar rhythm being pumped; thump thump, thump thump.

Then it's her father again. Her father – her father and Alex. Standing on the deck of the _Queen_, swords drawn. About to fight each other, but why on earth would they? This is the most confusing of them all, until she watches herself stumble up the steps from below wearing only a shirt and trousers, the shirt untucked and her hair falling freely about her shoulders, a frightened expression on her face. Her father… challenging Alex? To what, defend Emily's honor? Oh. Oh, no. That could be _bad_.

That one only lasts long enough for her to watch their swords clash once; everything else falls away and then she is on a vaguely familiar island. Her goddess' presence surrounds her, expressing a mixture of exasperation and amusement at Emily's current state. The island is just as pleasant as she remembers; the moon shines down bright, and a small fire cancels out any nightly chill. She half expects her head to clear the same as the pain in her leg had been taken away the first time she'd been here. Her goddess, though, is apparently not going to let her off that easy. She remains quite drunk. Sitting herself down in the sand next to the fire, she lays back and stares up at the moon and thinks of Alex and imagines a world where everything didn't always have to be so difficult.

…

She apparently dozes off for a short time , because when Calypso's presence grows strong enough to suggest she's decided to join Emily, Emily's eyes are closed.

"Well." Her goddess says, expectant, when Emily doesn't immediately acknowledge her.

Sighing softly, Emily opens her eyes, sits, and then stands – perhaps a little too quickly. She wobbles and then stumbles back a step drunkenly before managing to steady herself and attempting her usual dress-less curtsy. "My goddess."

Her goddess scoffs. "Sit, child."

Emily doesn't need to be told twice. She plops herself back down in the sand, her goddess joining her a bit more gracefully. "What am I apologizing for, then?" Emily asks. "Alex or the rum?"

"Which one are yeh sorry for?"

"Neither. At the moment. But if it'll get me sent back to bed in my cabin…"

"Dere is no need to apologize for loving de boy, and I tink yeh will find yeh are more dan sorry enough for de rum come mornin."

"Loving… Alex?" Emily's eyes widen. "But I – he's – I don't…"

Her goddess waves her off. "Dat is a discussion for anot'er time. I brought yeh here tonight to tell yeh that yeh cannot stay in Shipwreck."

Emily tries to think past her goddess' earlier statement. "Alright. Why?"

"Six months yeh have."

Six months. Six months – until what? Six, six, six… She'll turn nineteen in that time, and then… oh. Oh! "Mother. Her one day."

"I have a task for you, one yeh must complete before den. And I intend for yeh to have Alex with yeh while yeh do."

"Task? What task? And why does…"

"Hush, young one, and _listen_. The Admiral will have an eye on yeh now. Yeh must show him dat yeh are worth his attention."

"What? My goddess – with all respect, my little _Queen _is no match for his ships. His attentions will be gained easy enough, but what do I do then?"

Her goddess gives her a harder look. "Do not forget, Emily Turneh, _I _control de seas, not him. Yeh will only be worth his attentions because _I _wish for yeh to be."

"Right. Forgive me my goddess." Emily turns to stare down at her hands sheepishly. "I just – I don't understand. And what does this have to do with my mother?"

"Yeh're going to need her help."

"She wouldn't help me even if I asked."

"She may. But yeh'll need yeh father's help to convince her. Yeh made a promise, and if yeh plan to keep it, now is de time."

"But my mother hates my father, how can he –"

"Dat, yeh leave to me."

Emily wants to ask some more, but she's pushing her luck as is, and she knows it. "Yes, my goddess." She can't quite keep the exasperation out of her voice though. "How long can I stay at Shipwreck, then?"

"As long as it takes to ensure Alex will be with yeh when yeh leave."

"Oh, that. I wouldn't have it any other way."

…

She sleeps so soundly after that, she very nearly misses her brother slipping out quietly the next morning. She wakes to the feeling that someone is trying to pound a nail into her skull – and the sound of her sword being stolen.

"Joshy?" Her brows furrow when she sees his empty hammock. "Joshy." She shoots into a sitting position, eyes wide as they sweep the room and finally land on him. "What…" He's frozen next to the desk that she'd placed her things on the night before, her sword held in his hands. Her pistol sits at his feet where it had apparently just fallen, waking her up. "…do you think you're doing?"

He stutters. "I was just – I was going – to practice."

She blinks at him. "You're really rather rubbish at lying, and I hope you know you don't have to with me."

He looks down. "I'm sorry I woke you." Shaking his head, he places the sword back on the desk carefully before retrieving the pistol and replacing it as well. He opens his mouth as if to say something else, but nothing comes out, and his feet start moving before she can say anything herself.

"Wait! Joshy!" Heaving a frustrated sigh, Emily hastily begins attaching her leg brace, attempting to jog out after him even as she's still trying to buckle the straps. She makes it out on deck to find he's already stopped half way to the gangplank.

He rounds on her with a fierce expression, fists clenched. "Who was he? Last night?"

"A – friend."

"You shouldn't lie to me either, you know!"

He's shouting and the sun shines down bright as ever, and she decides in that moment she'll never let another drop of rum pass her lips again. With her head pounding so she feels as though she may be sick. She takes a breath and tries to force herself to be calm. "You're right. I'm sorry. It's not the whole truth."

"So what is the whole truth?" He demands.

"Complicated." She snaps back. "What makes you think it's your business?"

Now he looks almost hurt. "You're my sister. And he had you – you were _drunk_."

This only makes her angry, to a degree that is somewhat irrational. "As was he, it makes no difference, and how would you even know what we were…"

"I don't have to know to know it wasn't – you shouldn't've – sometimes I think mummy was right about you. Times like last night. But you don't get drunk, I've _never _seen you..."

Realization takes a moment to dawn on her, and she can still hardly believe it when it does. "You – you think last night was Alex's doing. His fault. What were you doing with my sword? What did you think you were going to do? Defend my honor as if I'm some fine lady?" She remembers, vaguely, the dream she'd had of her father, and her frustration at the stupidity of it grows. She doesn't deserve such fine treatment.

He looks down. "Someone should. Your my sister."

"And Alex would beat your arse into the dirt if you tried." She replies, harshly enough that he looks up, startled. "I'd rather you think your mother _was _right. Whatever she said is probably far closer to the truth than whatever has you thinking I'm worth some foolish duel."

Shaking his head, Joshy apparently has nothing more to say. Spinning around, he darts across the deck – and nearly runs into Alex as the older boy just makes it up on deck.

"Whoa. 'Ello again." Alex says. "Joshy, was it?"

Joshy glares up at Alex so fiercely, fists clenched again, that Emily starts to worry…but he only glances back at her with the same glare before brushing past Alex and beating a hasty retreat.

Emily brings her hands up to bury her face in them as her anger abruptly evaporates. Goddess, had she really just said all that? The fact that it was all quite true aside, her relationship with her brother had always felt a little – fragile. Now she feels as though she may have just shattered it entirely.

Strong arms wrap around her slender frame. She drops her hands and buries her face in his shirt instead.

"Dare I ask what all that was about?"

"I wouldn't. Just do me a favor; if he somehow manages to get his hands on a sword, don't hurt him too badly."

He pulls back to look down at her. "_What_?"

"He seems to think I have enough honor to be worth defending."

"Ah." Alex says, and apparently, wisely, decides to leave it at that.

"S'all your fault you know." She says on a whim, pulling out of his arms.

"My fault? I seem to recall ye being just as eager as I, thank ye very much."

"Well, you were the one who kept calling for more rum."

"And ye were enjoyin that just as much as I, too." He seems to have far more patience then she currently does. "Good afternoon, by the way. Ye slept half the day away. Jo was getting worried but didn't want to be the one to try waking you." He produces a flask from his vest and hands it off to her. "Drink. Smells bloody awful and tastes even worse, but it'll help your head."

She eyes him, then the flask, then decides she's got nothing to lose and snatches it from him, holding her nose as she drinks from it. "Ach! What _is _that?" She grimaces as she hands it back to him.

"You don't want to know. I wish I'd never asked. Now, about your brother… I've no intention of fightin a ten year old, if that was a question."

"It wasn't, and it won't matter. He's staying here." She slips past Alex, making her way back to her cabin.

"And when, pray tell, was this decided?" He follows.

"Just now. Your grandfather offered him a safe place here, and I'm thinking it'll work nicely. Unless you have a better suggestion?" She pulls out a fresh shirt from the tall cabinet on one side of the room and, simply because she's curious to see what Alex will do, pretends to pay him no mind as she slips off the one she's currently wearing.

He shows none of his surprise if indeed he feels it, calmly turning around to give her privacy. "Tease. You've no shame at all."

"I figure it's more fun that way. What's the matter? Your salty, scarred little sea girl not quite so appealing in the day light when you can see her clearly?"

He mutters under his breath, sounding a tad exasperated to her ears, but that could be put up to anything, so she doesn't ask. After a moment, he clears his throat, apparently deciding not to grace her question with a response. "What good would your dear brother staying here do if I'm here as well? The idea seems to be that we should stay out of each other's way."

She laces up the front of her corset and begins tying her hair back. "You can turn around now." He does and she finishes with her hair, then pauses, crossing her arms. "The idea is that he will stay here for the time being, and you'll be coming with me. Unless you intended to have me in my own bed and then leave me like I'm some whore. I'd like to think I'm at least worth more than that." She keeps her tone playful as she goes about strapping on her belt, but she is at least half serious.

His eyes – just for a moment he looks at her, and they're so sad. She can't fathom why. The look is wiped away as quick as it had come; he replaces it with a lazy grin. "I've yet to meet one of those even half as pretty as ye, dearie, I'll give ye that. I'm all yours if ye've a place for me, _Captain_." And there it is again, the way he says it, like he's half mocking her. He doesn't take it seriously.

He will, she decides, once they get back out to sea and start doing what pirates do best. She'll find some way to make sure of it. "I've always got a place for you." She replies as she crosses the room to stand just before him. "Now, I'd better go see Jo, I'm sure she'll have plenty to say." She leans in to place a brief kiss on his lips. "Thank you for – whatever that awful stuff was. I do feel better." And with that she leaves him.

* * *

><p><em><strong>This chapter kind of wrote itself… I think I'm having too much fun with these characters. Hope you enjoyed. :)<strong>_


	45. Fear

"I can't blame the boy." Jo tells her plainly. "Respectable young women simply don't get up to what you did last night, Peg."

They are in the tavern Emily and Alex had spent hours in the night before, Jo pointing out that Emily would probably do well to eat something. Emily is sitting slouched back in the chair with her arms crossed, a plate of barely touched meat and potatoes sitting on the table before her. "To be fair, I didn't actually get up to anything." She points out, somewhat dejectedly, and Jo gives her a look. "At least, not all the way." She adds, sheepish. "Technically." And there goes the eyebrow. Emily huffs. "Well, who in their right mind thinks respectable looking at me?"

"I'm not talking about you're warped view of yourself, I'm talking about how your brother sees you. You should be happy he cares enough about you to _want _to defend you. I'm just not sure leaving him here is… but then it's no business of mine, is it. And goddess knows how rarely you listen to me."

"Actually, suggestions would be more than welcome."

"I suppose there is no easy answer. You can't well have your – erm, Alex, and your brother at each other's throats, either."

"Oh, dear. I know I'm in trouble when even you can't help."

"Oh, don't be cross with _me_, it's your mess, I want no part of this one."

"Perhaps…" Emily heaves a sigh. "Perhaps I should've just let Joshy think it was all Alex's fault."

Jo scowls. "He'd have been the only one you were fooling with that lie, and besides, where would it all have gone from there?"

"Well, he'd have tried to kill Alex I suppose, and failed miserably, and possibly learned some sort of lesson, problem solved?"

"You must still be half drunk if you think it would've been that simple."

Emily shakes her head, standing. "I give up. Our goddess warned me things'll be a bit more dangerous now, I'd never forgive myself if he was hurt, anyway. He's staying here."

"He won't be happy, especially when he finds out Alex is going to be with us." Jo follows her out of the tavern.

It's Emily's turn to scowl. "I love Joshy but I won't let him take away my freedom any more than I let Alex. He'll just have to live."

…

"I thought you said we'd be a family." He says, and he sounds sad, not angry. She finds herself wishing he _was _angry. She could've handled angry.

"We _are_. I'll send letters. And visit, when I can. You have to understand Joshy, there's men after us now. After _me_. You know, if you were to get hurt on my watch your mother would probably find her way all the way back to us just so she could have my head?"

He chuckles a little. "She would."

"There, see?" She smiles. "This is for my safety as much as yours."

He abruptly gets serious again. "_He_'s going with you, isn't he?"

"Joshy."

"Emmy! No! He's – he's bad for you!"

"Joshy, how can you possibly…"

"You know it's true! I've never seen you like that before!"

"You don't know Alex like I do…"

"Only because you barely talked about him and then he just happens to be here when we arrive and the first thing he does is get you –"

"Joshua Turner!" She finally bursts out in a half growl. "No one bloody well _got me_ anything, can't you understand? I can handle Alex, and will handle him anyway I like, and I will not have a _boy _who's not quite ten trying to lecture me!" Silence reigns for several moments as he takes a few steps back from her, startled.

"That's why you're really leaving me here, isn't it? It's easier that way. You can just do what you like then."

Emily takes to wondering if she was this difficult as a ten year old. "You can think what you like, Joshy. It's not going to change anything. You're staying here for now." He won't look at her now. She doesn't blame him as she runs over the entire conversation they'd just had. _My goddess, I sound like Papa. _Softening, she kneels down in front of her brother. "I'm sorry. I promise, I'm not leaving you, not like Papa did us. I'll be back."

He nods but still won't look at her. "When are you leaving?"

"Some time in the next few days." She goes to place a kiss on his forehead, but he pulls away. She tries not to sound hurt as she goes on. "Come on, then. Let's go see about meeting the woman who'll look after you. Alex says she's nice, reminds him of Mrs. O'Malley. I'm sure you'll get along with her just fine."

He nods again and turns to start walking off in the general direction of the small complex of hallways that is Teague's home. Emily trails after him with slumped shoulders, wondering if she could possibly be better at ruining anything good.

* * *

><p>Alex wants to go with Emily. He really, really does. But the more he thinks about it, the more he isn't sure he should. This act he's putting on for her wouldn't be so awful hard to keep up. Up until their conversation in her cabin earlier, it had actually been somewhat fun. The problem was, well, that conversation. The things she'd said. The way she'd begun undressing in front of him, entirely shameless.<p>

"_Your salty, scarred little sea girl not quite so appealing in the day light when you can see her clearly?__"_

He can't get past that single sentence. Is that all she thinks of herself? Or was she trying to manipulate him. She wouldn't play a game like that with him, would she? And if she was, why would she think she needed to? Why couldn't she let this one thing just _happen_? It could be so simple, he'd told her he…

But she wouldn't allow that word. And now he's found himself avoiding it like the plague. And that isn't all. He'd been nervous when he saw her ship at the docks, so nervous that he'd gone to his grandfather and asked _his _advice. Which was madness. He's flirted with other women before by now, plenty of times. Much more than just _flirted, _in fact. It's so easy – when it's anyone but Emily. His grandfather had seemed amused and informed him that the only cure for what was ailing Alex was, perhaps, a bit of liquid courage, and then to just go see the girl already.

He wonders if Emily had been able to smell the rum on him when he'd made such a scene in front of her crew. If so, she certainly hadn't missed a beat for it. And then there was the tavern, and he can't help but wonder at how normal a thing she'd made it look, drinking like that. He remembers the girl who'd tried to refuse a sip of rum even with her leg a bloody, painful mess and compares her to the pirate who'd asked for a tankard of it the night before as if it was an everyday thing. When had that happened? What could possibly have changed so in just a little more than a year?

And now she's leaving her brother behind because she wants Alex to be with her. He feels guilty for that. Why exactly, he's not sure. He probably shouldn't. She'd have plenty of reason to leave him even without Alex.

"_Your salty, scarred little sea girl…"_

If she's going to keep talking like that, keeping up his act is going to be far more exhausting then he'd first expected. But she'd seemed so happy to see him. And if it will make her happy, he's ready to do just about anything.

What worries him is what _anything_ might end up entailing. With that thought in mind, Alex can't quite shake the feeling that he might, just maybe, be in a little over his head when it comes to his feisty little Captain Turner.

* * *

><p>She doesn't say goodbye to Joshy. Goodbye would feel too much like it really was, well, goodbye. And she fully intends to be back for him eventually, so she makes a point of treating it that way. She sings him to sleep the night before she plans to cast off and even gets in a kiss and then leaves him in what Alex assures her is the quite capable hands of the older woman that works for his grandfather. She half expects Joshy to come running for a proper goodbye that morning, but he doesn't, and before she knows it they're off again.<p>

She always feels better out on open waters, with the ship swaying gently beneath her feet and the salt sea air ruffling her hair. Out here she can pause and take a breath and really believe that everything will be just fine.

She'd been so excited to have Alex back at first that she very nearly went ahead and made him her first mate. She has no doubt he'll jump at the chance when she finally does. The problem is, he can't seem to look at her and get the word 'captain' out without sounding entirely sarcastic about it, and it's already getting on her nerves. She can't understand what's wrong with him. She could best him in a sword fight with one hand behind her back! She'd been second to Ana for months before their little adventure with the Fountain! Why is it he's the only one who can't seem to take her any kind of seriously?

She's tempted to simply _ask _him. But she's not sure it's a conversation she even wants to bother having. Any conversation with him lately tends to leave her half infuriated, and she really can't understand what's gotten into him…but at the same time she finds herself enjoying it on some level. She can handle this little dance they've begun. If it means she can have him and not have to worry about whether he's going to do something stupid, like ask her to run off with him again, or to _marry _him, goddess forbid… _then by all means, Alex. Let's dance._

* * *

><p><em>She is terrified. Her mother is standing before her all slimy skin and seaweed hair and so very, very <em>not human_, and Emily is _terrified_. Captain Swann's sword is already drawn and the Chest rests somewhere behind her, well out of Emily's reach, and Emily knows this is all just insanity. "Mother. Mother, please." She is pleading, but her voice is low and steady. She's nothing if not determined. "I don't want to fight with you."_

"_I can't let you do this, Emily. I won't." Her mother might well be even more determined. With all that's happened, Emily isn't surprised her mother would be just as afraid of death as her victims._

"_But I'll fix this. I have to fix this." And she believes she can, really, she does, if she can just get her hands on the heart. "Please believe me, mother, I know…"_

"_You know nothing!" The hag snarls._

_Emily recoils. "Please. It would be so simple."_

"_Simple?" Her mother's tone turns mocking. "Tell me, just what is your plan, then?" She begins pacing a slow circle around Emily. Like a shark, Emily thinks, about ready to drag some pour soul down to the depths to be its dinner. "Are you to replace me," her mother goes on, "and give up the freedom you've grown so accustomed to? Or would you give up your Alex? He would give himself up _for _you, he's so in love, the fool." She comes to a halt just in front of Emily again, realization dawning now. "Or is it someone else you had in mind, an innocent perhaps? One who doesn't know what exactly is going on? Could you be so selfish?" She sounds hopeful, as though she wants Emily to simply say yes. _

_Emily would never give her the satisfaction. She squares her shoulders. "I would never ask Alex to do such a thing."_

"_Ah," her mother sounds almost gleeful, "but that does not leave out the third option, does it?"_

_Emily schools her expression, forcing herself to give nothing away. "Stop stalling, mother. I need it. I don't want to fight you, but I will if I must." She draws her sword and begins the familiar dance with her mother, right across the deck of the _Dutchman_ as the waters beneath start to roil and the clouds above begin pouring down rain in sheets. Everything is a blur of lightening and the slippery deck and her mother's relentless attacks. She gets past Emily's defenses several times – slicing through the side of Emily's stomach, then her left arm, then adding a cut to Emily's cheek. And then it happens: Emily feels her mother's blade slice into her arm, the one she's fighting with. Much to her horror, Emily's sword goes flying. It clatters to the deck and tumbles away, and Emily is quickly being backed into a corner. Until this point she had allowed herself, on some level, to believe this wouldn't happen, to believe there was something left of her mother in the creature advancing on her. But there isn't, that much is made clear by the murderous glint in Elizabeth Swann's still human eyes. Painfully, Emily takes out her pistols and aims both of them at her mother and fires in a blind panic, but she'd taken an impromptu swim earlier, the powder inside them is as wet as she still is. Before she can think to do anything else, Captain Swann lunges forward, and then there is nothing. Just cold and wet and blackness and, faintly, her mother's voice, soft as it was when Emily was still very small. "_I'm sorry_."_

Emily's eyes fly open as she shoots into a sitting position, her heart pounding something fierce and her chest heaving. Shaking hands fly up to feel along her chest as she can almost swear she _feels _how the dream should end – with her dying, another one of her father's swords sticking out of her own heart.

* * *

><p>The dream repeats itself so often that there is no doubt her goddess is sending it. Emily almost can't even believe it. She wants so badly to believe there is something of her mother still left in the <em>Dutchman's <em>captain, and she can't believe her mother would really _try _to…much less actually…

But the terror that comes with the dream is so vivid, she begins to fear falling asleep. The strange thing is that she has the same dream every night, except she's not always on the _Dutchman_. But the fear that comes with this dream, along with the way it ends, has her barely remembering the other one, the one that is a bit different. She thinks, perhaps, her goddess is trying to tell her something… but what exactly? And if it's so important, why can't she just tell Emily in person?

She tries exhausting herself. Her goddess had wanted Emily to get the Admirals attention, so Emily throws herself into that with a fierceness she's never quite matched before. They don't encounter too many Navy or Company ships, which is strange. But Emily doesn't worry about it. They take on whatever ship crosses their path, as long as she thinks the _Queen's _chances are fair. Sort of. Fair enough, at least.

But that doesn't work for very long. The dream still comes. Sleep begins to hover further and further out of her grasp. And the terror she feels in the dream is so vivid, it begins to haunt her while she's still awake.

She _begs _her goddess to just tell her what it's all about. But Calypso remains silent.

* * *

><p>"I knew it."<p>

Emily jumps at the sound of another voice so close behind her on the quiet deck. It's the middle of the night, and everyone should be asleep, but she can almost never count on Alex to be exactly logical, now can she? She turns to him and crosses her arms. "Knew what?"

"That somethin's wrong. Ye haven't been sleeping." His brows furrow as she only shrugs. "Or…is that normal?"

"Yes. And no." She turns back to stare out to sea again. "Only when my visions get strange – er. Strang_er_, than usual I mean."

"I see." He comes up to stand next to her and there is a long pause. "So what is it ye've been seeing this time, then?"

"That's what's so strange. It's basically the same dream every time, but…" She trails off, not sure she wants to go into this. Not with Alex. Not with _anyone_. The last thing she wants to do is make it anyone else's burden to bear.

"Emily. What is it?"

She shakes her head, turning to him. "I'm sure you and I could find something much more interesting to talk about than another one of my blasted visions." It comes out with more frustration than she intends to let on. She goes on quickly to keep him from pushing further. "Why are you awake? Did you stay up just to catch me?"

"No." He replies defensively. She gives him a look, and he breaks easily. "Yes. As it happens, I know enough of the wonderful and perplexing creature that is woman by now to recognize when one is particularly troubled."

"Oh, really?" She says, skeptical, trying not to smile.

"Yes, really." He assures her with playful pride, then gets a bit more serious. "That, and Jo 'alf put me up to it. Strange woman, could swear she's never 'appy unless she's worryin over something. S'ppose she thought I'd 'ave better luck findin out what was wrong than she would. Least now I can tell 'er ye're no less stubborn with me."

Emily sighs. "I should've known. And I am not being _stubborn_, I just…" She looks up at him, then leans in on impulse, pressing her lips to his.

He brings a hand up to brush gently against her cheek before pulling away a bit. "Are ye sure ye want to…"

"I was perfectly certain all the other times. It's you I'm beginning to wonder about."

"I only mean – ye just said ye haven't been sleepin, and somethin has ye vexed."

"You could take my mind off of it." She murmurs in response, deciding she doesn't have the energy to play their game tonight.

"I'd rather ye tell me what _it _is so I can help." His voice lowers a bit in that way it does when he's getting frustrated.

"I'm sure you could persuade me to tell you. If you'd only try." She takes his hand and guides it to rest on her waist as she steals another kiss, them murmurs against his lips. "Come to my cabin."

His hand drops as he takes a step back, his expression unreadable. "Not tonight, dearie."

Shaking her head, she turns on her heal and stalks a few paces away, her wooden leg thumping against the deck beneath them louder than usual. A thought strikes her before she gets too far and she whirls back around to retrace her steps. "What is it with you, Sparrow?" He winces. He only becomes 'Sparrow' when she's really angry. She plows on. "You talk like the men now and drink with them and goddess, there are times you sound so much like Uncle it's frightening, but the only time you've looked at me the way I want you to is the two times I've seen you drunk. So – so what is it?" Her voice drops to barely above a whisper. "I suppose I couldn't hold your attention for very long to begin with, and now… There's nothing desirable about a skinny girl with only one leg, is there?"

"I wish you wouldn't say things like that." He replies tightly. "Please, don't say things like that."

"But it's the truth. Isn't it?"

"No." He says, firmly. "No, it is not." He startles her, closing the distance between them with a sudden conviction and pulling her in for another kiss, this one fiercer, hungrier. "And _you_." He near growls. "Are either incredibly stupid for saying such rubbish, or far too clever for knowin me reaction. I can't for the life of me decide which anymore."

She stares up at him, searching his face, and finally heaves a tired sigh. "I'm sorry. You're right." She brings her hands up to bury her face in them. "I'm exhausted, now isn't the time. I'll just –," she peeks back up at him, "will you come to bed with me anyway? Just to sleep, I swear it. Only I'm so used to having someone close by when I do sleep and I keep remembering that one time, in the crow's nest, do you remember?"

He softens a bit, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards. "Drinkin the fancy French wine I'd nicked from all those crates of it that'd been in the 'old, 'ow could I forget." Wrapping an arm around her shoulders, he begins leading her back to her cabin. "Just to sleep. Ye need to sleep, darling."

"Just to sleep."

She doesn't entirely believe him, she decides, when he turns his back as she reaches down to remove her leg brace. It could be, perhaps, just him being a little more sensitive than she sometimes remembers he is. Giving her privacy now that she'd let on she was a little touchy about her leg. But some dark, cynical part of her just won't entirely believe that. She slips under the sheets before telling him he can turn around, and he sets his own things aside before sliding in next to her. She hesitates to cozy up to him at first, but he wraps an arm around her slender frame, and she gives in, curling into him. His scent washes over her, the sea and something distinctly Alex tied in with the faintest trace of rum. Safe in his arms, she is asleep within moments.

* * *

><p>He feels rather stupid himself when he has the chance to think about it. He'd told her he thought she was beautiful, but they'd already worked out that simply telling her wasn't going to work. And he should've known her leg would be an issue. He gets a little – almost squeamish about it, but only because it is <em>Emily<em>, and he can't look at it or think about it without seeing her laid out on the surgeons table again, pale and feverish and so very close to death.

But even it isn't ugly. Nothing about her is ugly. Her leg is only an outward sign of how strong a woman she is. And that strength is arguably the thing that attracts him to her most.

It quickly becomes a most impertinent routine, him sleeping with her, in her bed. The crew seem, oddly, relieved to see them emerge from below together, murmurs of 'it's about time' rippling across the deck, but Emily doesn't seem to mind them thinking whatever they will, so he forces himself not to care either. He can tell her sleep is still quite broken even with him so close by, but when she does sleep she tells him it is a little more restful, and at least he's there to comfort her when she wakes from the night terrors.

She still isn't herself, though. Jo worries about her no less than he does, but says she's learned that confronting Emily about it blatantly will simply never work. They'll just have to wait for Emily to come to them. He only hopes, for Emily's sake, that this will happen sooner rather than later.

* * *

><p>It's certainly not the first time they've encountered another ship at night. Emily has a normal routine for this, just as she does for anytime another ship is involved; generally speaking, she tries to act with what little honor she <em>does <em>have. She's been blind-sided that way before by privateers; attacked at night when the watchmen only just had time to rouse her and the crew. The _Queen _had made it through that battle just as they had all others, but only barely. Emily has no wish to do the same to another unsuspecting ship – as much as pirates are hardly known for fighting fair, not all are as ruthless as the worst are. So, unless the other ship makes the first move, her instructions, usually, are to leave it at that.

This time is different. The ship heading their way is on the larger side, and though it's too dark to see their colors if their flying any, Emily has a feeling, a feeling that wakes her up even before any watchman can. Her goddess whispers. It's a Company ship, and a show of muscle is in order. Emily really doesn't like this. These ships run heavily armed and can be even more ruthless than most other pirates Emily's encountered. But her goddess insists. So, Emily makes sure to grab her sword and both pistols as she wakes Alex and tells him to do the same. Then she wakes Jo down the hall from her, and goes off to rouse the crew.

Fear and the usual excitement that comes before a raid make for a potent mix. Emily has to work a little to keep her own head as she orders any light on deck to be doused and tells her men to be silent as possible while they get ready for a battle. Maybe, if their careful and smart, the other ship won't have noticed them just yet. Maybe, just maybe, the _Queen _can get a head start on them. And then, just because she naturally only allows herself so much faith in her men, she sends up a prayer to her goddess. _Don't let them see us yet. Somehow, let this _work_._

Jo doesn't bother questioning her; she recognizes the look Emily gives her easily. This one was on their goddess. Nothing more needed to be said. Alex, on the other hand…

"Are ye sure about this, _Captain_?" He hisses but still manages to sound a little mocking at the end. The ship is quite visible by now – quite visibly larger than Emily would normal bother with, and he's not used to just trusting her like her crew is.

She doesn't bat an eyelash. "It's not for nothing that they felt the need to take me prisoner, Sparrow." She steps up to take over at the helm, sparing him only a glance. "Now I'd suggest you make yourself useful. Find a cannon to load or something."

He scowls at her flippant attitude, but does as she'd suggested. Jo comes up to Emily and hands off a spy glass, which Emily uses to look out on the other ship. To her pleasant surprise, she only sees the very beginnings of movement on it, watchmen scrambling to get their crew mates moving. Taking a breath, she addresses her own crew. "Alright boys, we've been spotted now, hurry it up! I want those cannons loaded and ready to fire, we're going to hit them fast and hard! Sink them if you will, bring me a prisoner or two to boot and it'll be drinks all around when it's over! Either way, let's make sure they think twice about writing off a little ship like ours from now on!"

She's greeted with a chorus of 'aye Cap'n's, music to her ears. She pulls the _Sea's Queen _right up alongside the other ship and doesn't give her men time to start rethinking things; the minute the first of her cannons are in range, she gives the order to fire. And fire they do. As the cannons flair, she catches glimpses of the men on the other ship pulling out rifles with the usual military efficiency, and their cannons already being loaded as well, but the _Queen _has just enough of a head start. Before the Company men can get in any good hits, the _Queen's _cannons are already blasting holes in their deck – and their men. Emily normally tries to be a little more careful of that, but she reminds herself this time is different. This isn't some innocent merchant vessel. The Company is involved in all sorts of much nastier business. They don't deserve the same sort of sympathy, not by a long shot.

With this in mind, she shouts at her men as some begin to hesitate. "Get over there, you cowardly dogs! I said bring me prisoners! What do I have to do, load you into those cannons?"

Alex looks up and locks eyes with her for a moment, shakes his head, and draws his sword. "Come on then, gents, ye 'eard the lady!" He grabs a rope and swings over, which is just enough to prompt a few to follow – and then a few more as a result.

"Jo!" She calls the older woman over and hands off the helm to her before jogging down to swing over to the other ship herself. After that, the chaos nearly defies description. Bullets whiz past her and the arm holding her sword seems to wield it without her even thinking about it. The sailors she's fighting are little older than her and Alex in several cases, but excellent with their blades, and they don't stop to ask questions. Swipe, block, parry, finally disarm, spin around and cut the legs out from under a sailor hounding one of her men, spin around again and bring up her sword when someone bumps into her – realize it's Alex as their swords clash, bring up her pistol to shoot a man under Alex's arm while he sends his sword sailing through the air over hers and she thinks she feels blood splatter across her back, all while avoiding cannon fire from her own ship.

A bullet grazes her arm, but she barely flinches as her goddess's blessing does its job and the flesh instantly begins knitting itself back together in that morbidly fascinating way that it does. Alex's pulls her out of the way of another cannon ball and she turns with him just in time to watch it sail into the Company ships mast. She sends a brief glare in the general direction of her own ship; that would've been an excellent shot had it not almost hit her. Alex shouts above the chaos as he promptly fells another sailor, asking if she's alright.

Her goddess whispers to her again, turning her attention to a man up by the helm; the Company ship's captain. Apparently, if captives are to be taken, Emily would do well to ensure he's one of them. Pushing past Alex, she brings her own sword back up and begins making her way to the helm.

* * *

><p>Emily disappears so abruptly it sends Alex into a bit of a panic when the fighting starts to wind down. The Company ship is in flames and won't last much longer. The men who were crewing it are abandoning ship, and Alex can't fathom how the little <em>Queen <em>actually managed this, but he's currently more preoccupied with making sure Emily's around to gloat about it.

He thinks he remembers her making for the helm. Dodging pieces of the burning sails and skirting around flaming debris, he jogs up the steps leading to the wheel. "Emily! Please tell me you've already crossed back over." He'll have to do so himself if he can't find her.

His eyes widen in surprise when a large man wearing a captain's uniform steps out from a door apparently leading to his cabin – with Emily right behind him, her pistol aimed at his head. In her free hand is a small wooden box, which she tosses to him before shoving the other captain back down to where the _Sea's Queen _has set up a gangplank. "Move." She tells him firmly. He does, but stalls halfway across, glancing down at the sea below them. Emily snorts. "Please, do jump. Give my regards to my mother."

The large man sends a deathly glare back at her, but gets moving again. Emily follows, with Alex close behind. Emily orders him thrown in the brig the second they set foot back on the _Queen, _and then joins Alex along with everyone else as they watch the other ship go down in awe. Alex glances at her, and the look on her face suggests she can't believe they'd just done that any more than he can.

Jo clears her throat as the long boats holding the Company ships surviving crew come into view, slowly rowing away. "Cap'n? Do ye want us to…?"

All eyes turn on Emily, who seems to shake herself a bit. "No. I've already got all I need. " She turns to begin barking out other orders.

Alex turns his attention to the box she'd handed him earlier, frowning as he opens it and doesn't immediately catch a glimpse of anything other than some papers. Why would Emily have taken this? Before he can come up with any possible answers, she clears her throat from just in front of him, causing him to look up. She's standing with arms crossed, expression, perhaps, just a tad smug. He rolls his eyes. "A lot o' lucky shots, that's all that was. If we'd try that in daylight we'd be rowin away instead o' them."

Now she just looks annoyed, snatching the box out of his hands. "Or maybe, just maybe, I know what I'm doing. Why is that so hard for you to believe?"

It's not. Actually, with the way she'd fought earlier, there's no denying she knows exactly what she's doing. Something about that is what scares him. He doesn't voice any of this, though, of course. "Ye know…" He starts instead, then pauses, adding a smirk as he looks her over – but it fades in the next second as he glimpses something over her shoulder. "Emily…" He points, looking thoroughly confused.

* * *

><p>Emily turns to where Alex is pointing and just stares. There's another ship coming. Another very large, rather <em>close <em>ship. Too close to have gone unnoticed before. The night is dark with only a sliver of moon, so it's difficult to make out much about the ship at the angle… but something about it is terrifying familiar. Eyes wide, she jogs back up to the helm where Jo has taken the spyglass back out.

"Colors?" Emily asks, praying she's wrong.

"She's not…" Jo stutters a bit as she lowers the spyglass. "Not flying any."

Scowling, Emily sets aside the box still in her hands and snatches up the spyglass to take a look for herself. She catches glimpses of the ships strange figurehead, the even stranger crew on its deck, sails tattered and barnacle encrusted… And then what could be a woman, emerging from below decks, cutting a strange figure with the spikes on her arms.

The rest of the crew begin murmuring as they spot the other ship as well.

Jo glances at Emily, nervous. "Cap'n?" She prompts. Emily doesn't respond, can't make herself. She's frozen, hands shaking as they clutch the spyglass. The ship is coming closer, faster than seems possible. Jo goes on, sounding a little desperate. "Cap'n? Give us something, what should we do. Peg? Emily!"

But Emily can't think, she isn't ready for this, not now. She knows _that _fight, the one in her dream, can't possibly be getting ready to happen now, but she is terrified all the same.

Jo, giving up, turns to address the crew herself. "Brace the sails, we need to bring her about, come on, step to!" She takes the helm herself and begins impulsively turning phrases colorful enough to match her father's when the men don't move fast enough for her liking.

"Belay that." Emily squeaks, her voice cracking. She clears her throat, tears her eyes from the ship fast approaching and turns to, finally, address the crew herself, squaring her shoulders. She can't break now. She's spent the past few weeks doing her best to be strong, and she won't break now. "Belay that! Steady, lads!" She comes up beside Jo. "It's no use." And her voice, by some miracle, comes out strong and steady. "She'll catch us either way, better to stay put and see what she wants."

"Are you mad?" Jo hisses. "What she _wants _could be to send us and this ship down to the depths for all we know, and who's to say she won't!"

"If, for some reason, that were true, she would have stayed below the water until she was right on top of us and we'd already _be _sunk." Emily replies back snappily.

"Well, do you have any idea what it is she _does _want, then? Because I don't."

Emily can understand Jo's frustration. With the visions their goddess gives them, they are a bit spoiled, used to _knowing._ When they don't, it's like having their legs cut right out from under them. Emily turns to look out at the other ship again and only shakes her head as the fear grips her again, irrationally intense and crippling. "I don't know. I don't…" Hands shaking again, she turns away and begins heading for her cabin.

"Peg?" Jo calls out, adding another colorful insult. "Where are you going? Peg!"

Emily ignores her as she slips below.

* * *

><p><em><strong>And it's a cliff hanger for you! Ah haha! Really, though, it's just late, I have a headache, and this chapters long enough as it is. Next one should be up soon, I'm having fun writing for this fic. Thanks for reading!<strong>_


	46. The Dutchman and The Compass

_"Well, do you have any idea what it is she __does __want, then? Because I don't."_

_Emily can understand Jo's frustration. With the visions their goddess gives them, they are a bit spoiled, used to __knowing.__ When they don't, it's like having their legs cut right out from under them. Emily turns to look out at the _Dutchman_ again and only shakes her head as the fear grips her again, irrationally intense and crippling. "I don't know. I don't…" Hands shaking again, she turns away and begins heading for her cabin._

_"Peg?" Jo calls out, adding another colorful insult. "Where are you going? Peg!"_

_Emily ignores her as she slips below._

She comes to a halt in the middle of her cabin, not even bothering to close the door. She doesn't even know why exactly she came down here. She paces the room, trying to think, to come up with a reason why her mother would be paying a visit now. There has to be a reason, a logical reason that does not involve threatening to kill her daughter because Emily hasn't done anything to warrant that. At least, certainly not yet.

Collapsing onto her bed, she buries her face in her hands and begs her goddess to give her something, _anything. _But she's given nothing, and there's simply nothing for it. If her mother really wants to talk, there's no way Emily will be able to stop her.

"So. Whatever's goin on in that head o' yours, it's got somethin to do with yer mum." He says it almost conversationally. She didn't hear him coming.

Emily looks up to glare at him weakly. Alex is leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed and looking entirely too calm. "It has something to do with that _thing_ parading around in what's left of her body, yes."

"She'd have fired on us by now if we were in danger of that, right?"

"Yes. Maybe. Goddess, I wish I knew." She stands and takes a breath, composing herself.

He watches her, his gaze somehow soft and worried and angry all at once. "Ye're going to tell me what's going on." It's not a suggestion.

Emily finds, for once, that she doesn't have it in her to argue with him. "Assuming you're right and all moth – _Captain Swann_ wants is a chat? Aye. Fine." All is silent up on deck, she notes. She's not sure if this is a good thing or a bad thing.

"Only one way to find out." He replies pointedly.

"Right." She doesn't look at him as she slips past and makes her way out into the open again.

* * *

><p>Jo doesn't seem to know what to make of any of this; when Emily re-emerges, the older woman is still stood by the helm looking no less uncertain than the rest of the crew. Emily sends an apologetic glance in her direction and supposes she'll have to give in and explain things to Jo as well after this. She realizes Alex is right – with all the very large guns the <em>Dutchman <em>is sporting, pointing at all angles, if it was a fight her mother had wanted the _Queen _would already be in trouble.

Captain Swann, in typical fashion, skips any courtesies and appears before Emily on deck, alone, but she hardly needs anyone else to back her up. She's frightening enough on her own that no one dares move a muscle. She doesn't say anything at first, appearing to simply look her daughter over, taking her time. "My." She says at last, softly. "You have grown." Her eyes travel downward and linger a moment on Emily's bad leg, suggesting a feint curiosity, before darting back up to meet Emily's wary gaze. "And you do look like your father, don't you? I'd hoped once that you'd grow out of that. Pity."

Emily squares her shoulders and meets her mother's cold eyes with as little fear as she can manage. "Mother." She feels Alex come up behind her, hovering just over her shoulder, calming her further, and goes on steadily. "What can I do for you?"

"Oh, don't worry, not much." Captain Swann turns and wanders across the deck a short ways, looking around and inspecting things a bit as Emily's crew scrambles to stay out of her way. "Am I to understand this ship is yours, dear?" Emily cringes. The way her mother says it – almost too pleasant, as though she still cares for Emily at all. "A female captain and not even nine and ten years of age." She turns back to Emily. "That's quite a feat, you know."

Emily's eyes take in her mother in the dim light of the lamps scattered across the _Queen_'s deck and she notes things she never would've in her dreams. The way her black fingernails come to a strange point and the fact that she has gills on her neck that flare out every so often. And her hair – it looks, at first glance, like seaweed, but the strands seem to move every so often in a way that suggests… Emily cuts the thought off there and tears her eyes away."Mother." She says again, this time with an edge to her voice.

"Fine, fine." Captain Swann concedes airily. "I only thought you'd like to know I'm proud of you."

"Thank you. Now, _what can I do for you?_"

"I'm looking for something. I've reason to believe you have it."

"What could I possibly have that you would need?" Emily asks, growing even warier.

"A compass. Small little trinket, seems worthless at first glance, but I'm sure you know all about it."

"Compass. Uncle's compass?" Emily's brows furrow as she quite possibly imitates her father's favorite confused expression. "Why would you think I have it?"

Her mother's eyes narrow a fraction as she strolls forward a few steps. "Because I've already spoken to your 'Uncle', and he does not."

Alex does not, apparently, like Captain Swann's tone or the look she's giving Emily, because his hand goes to his sword. Emily glances at him and places her hand over his soothingly, hoping to keep him from doing anything stupid. She feels her own fear and worry subsiding a fraction. If the compass is all this is about then she's nothing to worry about, as she doesn't have it. "I know for a fact that Uncle's had a number of interesting adventures over the past few years, he could have lost it anywhere along the way. I can assure you, I don't have it."

Captain Swann isn't looking at Emily anymore; she's looking at Emily's hand placed over Alex's. Her expression is odd, hinting at something like anger. Or, perhaps, jealousy? Emily isn't sure, but pulls her hand away, unsettled.

"And I suppose," her mother goes on, tone pleasant and airy again, "you'd have no reason to lie. Even considering what this compass could help lead you to."

Emily's men are getting antsy, unsure of what to make of all this. Emily schools her expression, making it as unreadable as possible. "I've no idea what you're talking about, mother. I have, at the moment, all I could possibly think to want."

"Ah yes. Your own ship," her mother eyes Alex, "and crew." She reaches out to breezes a hand over the necklace around Emily's neck, her touch sending a chill down Emily's spine. "A few lovely bits of shine. No reason for a compass that could point you straight towards anything else you should find yourself wanting. Daddy dearest, for instance?"

How could Captain Swann possibly even know Emily was planning to rescue her father? Emily decides the conversation is over. "No reason at all. If that's all, mother. We have just taken down a rather large ship, I'm sure we've left you plenty of poor souls to terrorize." Her mother's eyes narrow at her again, and Emily resists the urge to literally slap herself as the deck turns even more eerily silent if that were possible. _Stupid, stupid, stupid… Why is it so hard to keep your mouth shut?_

Thankfully, her mother quickly changes her tune, suddenly looking more amused than anything else. "There's the fire I've been hearing of. You're becoming quite the infamous little thing yourself, you know, even among the dead. I can see why. Very well, if you say you don't have the compass, I'll be on my way." She glances at Alex again. "Do take care, dear." And then she is gone as simply as she had come.

The deck of the _Queen _remains pin drop quiet as the _Dutchman _turns halfway about and then sinks slowly below the water and is gone as easily as it's captain. And then, giving everyone one last fright for the night, Jo Gibbs burst into a fit of almost hysterical giggles.

"All of that." She gasps out when everyone, including Emily and Alex, turn to stare at her as though she's mad. "All of that for that – that stupid broken compass? I – I can't believe…"

"Jo?" Emily asks cautiously. "What the _hell _are you going on about?"

The older woman takes a moment to gather herself a bit and shakes her head. "Forgive me, Cap'n. Perhaps I'd best explain later."

Emily turns to Alex, wondering if he has any idea, but he only gives her a weary shrug. Deciding she's too tired to ask, she turns her back to Jo and addresses her crew. "Alright, gents, it seems we're safe for now. I'll answer the questions I'm sure you have tomorrow morning." She feels far too much a mess to do so now. Noting that the _Queen _seems, miraculously, to have fared well enough that any repairs can wait the few hours until dawn, she sends the crew off to sleep.

Which is about when Alex drags her back to her cabin. Their cabin? It might as well be, she thinks as she follows him gingerly. She knows him well enough to know she won't be getting any rest until she's done the explaining she'd promised him, and she's not looking forward to this. She contemplates refusing to explain and kicking him out of her cabin for the night if he doesn't like it. That's what Peg would do. But Emily looks at him, sees the worry he's trying not to show, and just can't.

"Must we do this now?" She asks him wearily when he sits on her bed – their bed? It sounds odd somehow, as whatever they have is still infuriatingly undefinable, but it might as well be _theirs, _as he sleeps in it with her at night – and makes himself comfortable.

"I know you. If I don't make ye do this now, ye'll just find another excuse to avoid it later."

She sits down next to him, and then curls into him, her head resting on his shoulder. "Are you sure you want to know? Believe me, knowing isn't always so wonderful a thing."

He pauses, a hand coming up to work her hair out of its braid so he can run a soothing hand through it. "Was this vision really so terrible?"

She doesn't answer, but her silence, she knows, will speak volumes to him.

"Ye know… ye don't have to do it all on your own." He pulls her chin up gently so he's looking right into her eyes. "This crew of yers is a fair bit more loyal than I'd have expected. And ye have Jo." He leans down to place a kiss on her lips. "And me."

"I know. I just…"

"Just what? Tell me." He demands.

Emily shakes her head. "Make me." Snaking a hand up to rest on his neck, she pulls him forward for another kiss, and he obliges her. And this time, when he deepens the kiss and she goes to take off his vest for him – it's different. Because there are no interruptions. Neither of them are drunk. And they take it slow. Her hands are shaky, nervous, she doesn't entirely know what's she's doing, but his are sure and steady as he removes her corset and tangles them in her hair. His shirt is the next to go, and she pulls back to take him in, and excitement begins to take hold of her, because she recognizes those new tattoos – the anchor and chain on his arm, a typical tattoo for a sailor, and the one on his stomach, script of some kind, she's not half interested in asking about it at the moment. And then there is the small gold earring in his ear that she'd already noted, the way his own hair is longer and tied back in a braid.

Just like in the dream she'd had, months and months earlier. Could it be…

He moves down, his fingers trailing across the fabric of her shirt and then her breeches, down her left leg… He pauses, looking up at her, silently asking permission as his hand hovers over the first of the straps holding her leg brace up. She gives a hesitant nod, and his fingers slowly begin unbuckling the straps, pausing after each of them to gently message the areas of her leg. She breathes deeply, watching him with mixed feelings. Something about the simple act of letting him remove it for her seems every bit as intimate on its own as what their getting ready to do. The wooden peg is slowly, strangely, becoming a rather large part of who she is, and she usually makes sure her leg is beneath the covers and out of sight before he comes to slip into the bed next to her. No one, not even Jo, has really seen her without it since she first lost her leg.

He sets it aside when he's done, and she sits before him feeling already naked. Not Captain Turner. Not Peg. Just – Emily.

He comes back up to kiss her again, then murmur against her lips. "There ye are."

"Here I am." She says back meekly. "Suppose I'm not much without it, really. Just – me."

He shakes his head as his hands travel down to untuck and remove her shirt. "I've always thought just Emily was pretty remarkable on 'er own."

She kisses him again instead of responding. He breaks it only to trail feather light kisses along her jaw, down her neck, and further down until… _oh._

…

The sky is just beginning to brighten with the approach of dawn when Emily speaks again. She is curled in to Alex, her head resting comfortably on his still bare chest, his arm curled around her with his thumb rubbing gentle circles into her arm.

"It's the same dream every night. Sort of." She can feel him shift a bit, worried eyes looking down at her. "It's always me and mother, fighting over – well, I'm not exactly sure, but it has to do with the Chest."

"Chest?" Alex interrupts softly.

"The chest with her heart inside. Dead Man's Chest." She clarifies, snuggling closer to him as the sound of the beating thing echoes hauntingly in her ears. "I think… I think sometimes we're on an island, this tiny spit of land that barely qualifies. I can't remember that one as well. I just know it doesn't end the same. But it's the other one…" She begins tracing absent patterns across his chest with her fingers. "We're on the _Dutchman_. And it's different. She's stronger, maybe, or I'm weaker or too afraid. And she's so cold about it…" She tries to keep going. Really, she knows she should tell him the whole truth. But she just can't get the words out. "I don't know. She's not my mother anymore. I just get this feeling, if we're on the _Dutchman_, it's all over. There's no getting my mother back, that's just it."

He doesn't answer right away, only holding her tighter as he places a kiss atop her head. "I s'ppose, if all else fails," he says slowly after a moment, "we'll just have to make sure this fight doesn't 'appen on the _Dutchman_."

Emily lets out a soft, humorless laugh. "You make it sound so simple."

"Well, it is. Surely ye don't think I'm gonna let ye end up on that ship with that slimy ol' hag if there's even 'alf a chance it won't somehow end in your favor. She could kill ye. Or worse."

She sits up to look at him. "For all I know that's just how it's supposed to…"

"I won't believe that." He cuts her off firmly. "There's more to it than that, there always is with yer visions." He seems to think a moment and she can almost see the wheels turning in his really rather brilliant mind. He props himself up on one arm to face her better. "What would ye want with the 'eart? Ye haven't said anythin about it before now."

"There was an idea or two involving it." Emily admits. "But they were half-formed plans at best and I wasn't serious about it. None of the options surrounding it see us coming out on top. And being able to live with ourselves, that is."

He raises his eyebrows at that. "Maybe we won't 'ave much choice."

"I don't even know where the thing is buried."

"Why else would she 'ave been askin about Dad's compass? Somethin's got 'er just as nervous as you, I'd say."

"Even in that case, my mother's disembodied heart is hardly what I want most right now." Emily waves him off.

"Ah, ye'd have to think like a Sparrow on this one. What _do _ye want? To find yer papa I'd s'ppose, only ye have a map for that, and I'm not sure the compass would point to any worlds beyond this one."

She smiles a bit flirtily. "Next on that list would have been you, but I should think you've very well taken care of that now, thanks very much."

He gives her his most roguish grin in response, pulling her closer with a hand on her waist to give her a kiss. "T'was me genuine pleasure, darling."

She smiles against his lips, giggling. "Oh, I'm sure."

A thought seems to strike him and he pulls away a bit, playfully holding a hand over his heart. "Do ye mean to say I wasn't at the very top of the list? Ye _wound _me, dearie."

Now she rolls his eyes. "I daresay I've had other things on my mind, how to deal with my mother for one."

"'old up." He pauses, abruptly getting serious again, his expression a perfect imitation of his father's during an 'aha' moment. "That's not a bad idea, that is."

"What?"

"The 'eart. Whoever 'as it would 'ave control of the seas, right? The power to force yer mum's 'and?"

"Alex…"

"What ye want most is to bring your mother back, the way ye remember 'er. If the 'eart could somehow 'elp make that 'appen…"

"I can't actually fathom how the heart _would_ help with that. And, besides that, having that pretty little chest will do us no good if we don't have the key that unlocks it, Alex, how do you propose we'd get our hands on that, hmm?"

He pauses, grimacing. "Damn."

"Mhm. It's not worth it."

"S'ppose if we 'ad someone to go in and get it for us…"

"I already said. No scenario involving the heart sees us coming out on top _and _being able to live with ourselves afterwards. If mother were to get her claws into whoever we sent… I wouldn't wish that fate on anyone."

"Anyone? Not even an officer from a Company ship?" That – gets her thinking, actually. Alex goes on. "The Captain that 'appens to be pacing about in a cell in our brig right now, for instance."

Emily sighs, running a hand through her hair, uncertain. "I don't know."

Alex holds up his hands. "Food for thought, is all, dearie. It sounds as though we 'ave some time to figure it out."

Emily nods. "My dreams do suggest we have until mother's one day on land, and that's months away still. If I keep having that same dream until then, though… goddess, I mean I'm already going half mad."

Alex lays back down and pulls her down to lay next to him. She curls into him again as a yawn escapes her lips as if on cue. "Just know, no matter what 'appens, ye're goin to be fine." He says.

"How do you know." She asks, somewhat sleepily now.

"Because I won't 'ave any other way." He murmurs back, his voice soft but so firm it worries her a bit. She's exhausted after all the night's events, though, and before she can think on it too much – she is sound asleep.

…

"Why didn't you tell me about this before?" Emily exclaims the next morning as Jo holds out a small and rather beat up wooden object, the coveted and deceptively broken compass.

They are in Emily's cabin. Emily is wearing only her own knickers and Alex's shirt, which she'd mischievously snatched up in their haste to dress when Jo had come to wake them. Jo keeps glancing down at it with the most quizzical look, as if trying to decide whether that means what she probably hopes it does. Emily is attempting to act as normal as possible, if only because she enjoys keeping the older woman on her toes.

"Well, I didn't know what it was, now did I? My father handed it off to me just before disappearing after your little adventure with the Fountain. Told me to keep it safe because 'one never knows when it might come in handy', but didn't have time to explain beyond that."

Emily takes the compass and turns it over in her fingers a bit. "I suppose it's really rather lucky that you did. If I'd known about it last night I'd have had to lie to mother and it might not have gone so well."

"So does it really do what your mother said? Not that I would be entirely shocked if it did, it's just it doesn't seem to point to anything in particular for me."

Emily glances at Alex, who is leaning against her desk casually. He looks perfectly unperturbed with his own magnificently shirtless state, but he does appear to be rather preoccupied with Emily – particularly, the almost scandalous amount of skin that's exposed by the way she's allowed his shirt to slip off her shoulder. "Well, what say we show her?" She tosses the compass to him. He only just manages to catch it, startled.

"What?" He asks blankly, glancing down at the object as though he's not quite sure how it ended up in his hand.

Emily smirks, reaching up to gather her dark waves in her hands and bring them forward to spill over her shoulder to tease him further, remembering he said he likes her hair when its loose. "Just open the compass, _dearie_." She imitates him in that playful way she sometimes does.

"Oh." He shrugs a bit and does as she'd asked, his brows furrowing in confusion until he inspects the compass a bit further, and then glares at her. "S'pointin to you, of course. Don't know what else it'd be pointin too with the way –," he mumbles a bit under his breath, then clears his throat, "I am going to need me shirt, ye know, darling."

"Well. It certainly does work then." Jo says, not at all bothered by this. And then her eyes narrow suspiciously as she looks at Emily, then Alex, then Emily again, hands coming to rest on her hips. "You know, I'm beginning to get the idea the only thing the pair of you probably did not do last night was sleep."

Alex pushes off the desk and comes up to wrap his arms around Emily as she blushes deeply – and imitates his trouble grin in an effort to cover it up. "Well. As sleepless nights go…" She answers as he kisses her neck. "… I certainly would not mind a repeat of last night."

Jo places a hand over her heart and fans herself with the other, pretending to be perfectly scandalized. "Honestly, you two. You've not shame at all." Her tone is playful.

"Pirate." Emily and Alex reply in unison, and then break into laughter as Jo drops the act in favor of rolling her eyes as she leaves.

Alex runs a hand over the exposed skin of her shoulder and down her arm, murmuring in her ear. "The shirt, dearie?"

"I should keep it." She replies airily, turning to him and running her hands over his chest. "I certainly don't mind the view without it."

He breaks into laughter again. "Well, if that be the way ye want to go, I suppose I'll have to take all ye're shirts as well." She raises her eyebrows, a mischievous grin tugging at the corners of her mouth and his eyes widen a bit. "No, no, that – that was not a challenge, darling, just..."

"Ah, but that might be interesting, though." She slips his shirt off and hands it to him, as unabashed as she had been the first time she'd stood this way before him.

"_Interesting_?" He stares at her as she begins redressing, shaking his head in that way that he does when he simply doesn't know what to do with her. "And people say I'm the one who's 'alf mad."

* * *

><p>"Alright, gents." Emily calls out from just beside the helm later that afternoon after gathering her crew on deck. "I have long put off explaining what I am about to, but the visit we were paid last night has left me no choice but to do so now. As you were good enough to give me a chance as your captain, I intend to give you nothing but the truth now in return." And, so calm that she surprises even herself a bit, Emily goes on to explain everything about just who she is. She explains about her mother in as much detail as she thinks necessary, and briefly about the Admiral and why the Company might be after her. She explains about some of what her goddess has told her – the easiest of all the explanations, as they already know about her and Jo being blessed. And then, finally, she explains about the journey she intends to attempt in hopes of saving her father, being sure to add in that her goddess had clearly stated they would need Will Turner if her mother was to ever be reasoned with. She is not interrupted once, the men before her listening so intently that she's not sure what to make of it exactly. When she's finally finished, she pauses to take a breath before going on, a little shakier as she prepares to take a very serious chance. "Now. I have heard stories of the journey my parents took to Worlds End, but as I was quite small at the time, the details were left rather vague. Which is to say, I've scarcely a better idea of what would await us on our journey than the rest of you would." Pausing again, she surveys the men before her. "As such, I'm offering you a choice. We will need to stop off at Tortuga for supplies. Any one of you that decides to leave at that time may do so without need of an explanation."<p>

This is enough to get them talking amongst themselves. Emily stands patiently for what seems an eternity, allowing them a moment to take in all she's just said. She is just about inform them of how she intends to go about this – she had thought to retreat to her cabin and allow them some time to decide in peace so she could come back and have an idea of how many, if any, she would have left to work with – when none other than Jo Gibbs makes her way to the front of the group with Alex at her side, and the men quiet down again. Surprised, Emily stays silent.

"Cap'n, I think I can speak for a fair few of the boys here when I say that we aren't going anywhere." Jo says. "I hear plenty of this Admiral and this fleet he's supposedly building, and if any of that talk is true then we're running out of options again. Personally, if I'm to take chances with anyone, I'd prefer it be you."

There is a pause, and a rather terrifying one at that, for Emily at least. But then, slowly, the majority of the crew begins calling out their agreement. A little overwhelmed by the unexpected amount of support, it takes her several moments to remember how to speak. "Right." She manages. "Well. I thank you kindly for that. Hopefully my goddess will be kind enough to bring us all back in one peace." Clearing her throat and affecting a tone that is more lady pirate Peg than somewhat insecure Emily, she claps her hands together. "Now that's settled for the moment at least, I believe I promised a reward for your work last night." This is met with cheers. Taking out a key that had been tied to her belt, she hands it off to Jo. "Miss Gibbs, the rum, if you please."

* * *

><p>Remembering the box that she'd taken from the captain of the Company ship, Emily asks Jo try and keep an eye on things before disappearing to her cabin. She remembers the conversation she'd had with the Company ship's captain when she'd finally found him, hauled up in his cabin as he searched frantically through the papers encased in the box.<p>

"_You're ships about to be sunk by another half its size and you're more concerned with a bunch of papers? I'd say someone's priorities are in desperate need of rearranging."_

He'd frozen briefly, his hands clutching the box almost as if he were clinging to a lifeline. Turning to her slowly, his eyes immediately darted down to her leg before traveling back up to meet her own. _"This 'bunch of papers', _Captain_ Turner, as it happens, could be your saving grace as well as they could now be mine."_

"_Saving grace? Is it amnesty I'm to be granted?" _She'd asked with a snort.

"_I'll be happy to discuss it with you just as soon as we are no longer in danger of going down with my ship." _He'd replied with mock pleasantry.

Whatever the papers were all about, she highly doubted they would be of any actual interest to her. However, she'd decided to grab the box anyway. And now, here she was. Taking out the papers and thinking she is now exceedingly grateful she'd taken the time to better teach herself to read, she begins doing just that.

It doesn't take long for her to at least skim through all of them – and to decide that her new friends down in the brig needed to be paid a visit, very, very soon.

…

"You give the rest of us permission to have a bit of fun only so you can come down here and – what exactly are you doing?"

Emily looks up to find Jo standing in the doorway, a no-longer-quite-full bottle of rum clutched loosely in one hand, the other resting on her hip. "I had a bit of reading to do." Emily holds up the papers she's been looking over. "The Admiral is either a complete idiot – or a genius. I'm actually finding it hard to decide."

Jo lifts an eyebrow as she crosses the room to sit on the desk, reaching for the paper in Emily's hand. Emily trades her for the rum, which she takes a drink of without her usual second thought.

Jo's eyes widen the further she reads. "Genius." She decides for Emily. "Granted, if you were a man, I'd say idiot, but since you aren't…"

"I know." Emily looks down at the other two documents set out before her. "He must be some kind of desperate if he's willing… but why would he be? This only gives me more questions to ask."

"Well, you do have two strapping young officers and a Captain sitting down in the brig just waiting for you to ask them."

"Aye, only I'm not sure how to go about actually dealing with them. We've never taken captives before."

"I don't suppose our goddess…"

"All I've gotten from our goddess for weeks now is the same two dreams and they're no help at all so far." Emily takes another drink of rum.

Jo eyes her. "You know, I'd like to think you were planning to tell me about these dreams, eventually."

"Are you giving me a choice now?"

"No."

"Of course not." And, somewhat begrudgingly, Emily tells her. She's careful to make sure she gives the older woman the same story she'd given Alex. She feels bad for holding back the truth, to either of them, and almost wishes she hadn't with Alex, but now that she has, there's not much she can do. Jo wouldn't be too bothered by it. She'd understand how disturbing visions could be and would leave it at that. But Alex – Emily feels that whatever she has with him is too shaky. Even after the night they'd just spent together, they aren't quite sure what to do with each other anymore. Admitting to a sort-of-lie would only make it worse.

She indulges in another sip of rum when she's finished. Sometimes, she isn't even sure what to do with herself.

"So you really had no idea what last night was all about, then?"

"None." At least that isn't at all a lie.

"And that's all there is to the vision. You and you're mother fight and then… nothing. You don't know how it ends?"

Emily only shakes her head, staring at the bottle on the desk before her. Jo is silent for a long moment, so long that Emily begins to worry the older woman doesn't believe her and is about to say so.

"Alright. I've had no visions at all these past weeks, I only hope we haven't angered our goddess somehow."

"If we did, it'd be nice if she'd simply tell us how."

"She's never so direct, in case you hadn't noticed. For now, it seems we're on our own." Jo stands. "You can keep the bottle if you'd like." Emily nods, and Jo doesn't comment on it as she goes on. "I'll make sure we're on course for Tortuga, then, shall I?"

Emily only nods again, distracted. Jo leaves, quietly shutting the door behind her.

* * *

><p>"Well?" Alex asks in hushed tones as Jo quietly makes her way toward him.<p>

Jo steals a glance back at Emily's door and pulls him down to the very end of the hall. "You're right. There's something she's not telling us."

"She took the bottle?"

Jo nods. "Whatever it is, it's serious. Why didn't you ask her last night? If you knew she was holding something back…"

"I didn't know. I don't know _her _anymore." He paused. Emily trusted Jo, possibly more than she did even him. "Why don't ye say something?"

"This is ridiculous." Jo grumbles in response. "Whatever she's not telling us, I'm sure she has a good reason."

"Are you?" He hopes she won't hesitate in saying yes. He wasn't around the past year. Jo knew Peg whereas he only knew Emily. He couldn't be sure of anything anymore.

"I trust Peg. She says she doesn't know what's going on any more than we do. We're better off just leaving it at that for now." And with that, Jo leaves him.

Alex slips quietly back down the hall to stand before Emily's door, one hand coming up to knock… and then dropping down to the handle, thinking the cabin might as well be his now as well… and then drops it back to his side in frustration. Yes, he decides, his dad definitely has things figured best when it comes to women. But Alex just can't bring himself to work with that mentality, not with Emily Turner. He hears the rest of the crew up on deck, laughing and talking and drinking, and decides to rejoin them instead.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Not much to stay about this one. Reviews would be nice, but you're still reading, so I'll take that as a good sign and just keep doing what I'm doing. :)<strong>_


	47. Captain Andrews

It is perhaps a touch elaborate, just a touch. Maybe that's just what she gets for asking for Alex's input. She supposes she might well be over complicating things a bit, but she's not especially given to real cruelty and intends to keep it to a minimum at the very least. She has a feeling they'll have to believe she can be that kind of cold before they'll give her anything, though. But she can't afford to appear to be unreasonable either. All in all, she is just as elaborate as she feels is necessary – being a woman in the position she's in requires a creativity that wouldn't, perhaps, be otherwise needed.

Jo thinks Emily's over complicating things, but throws up her hands when she realizes Alex is all for it ("…our goddess only knows you two are stubborn enough on your own, put together I suppose reasons got no chance in Hell…").

In the end, Emily explains a bit to some other members of her crew, has some rope made ready, and outfits herself in her most tempting lady-pirate rig. And then the show begins.

…

Captain Timothy Andrews sits in the dingy brig, along with two of his youngest midshipmen, for well on to three days before their presence is again acknowledged. The sun is setting before the pirates finally come for him; he is dragged from his cell unceremoniously and rather roughly. He is given a brief glimpse of the outside world as they drag him across the deck – he can just see an island silhouetted in the distance, the sun already mostly disappeared behind it.

He worries a bit about the boys left still pacing in their cells below decks. They weren't about to be marooned were they? He doesn't get too much time to think on it before he is shoved back below deck, down a short hallway, and into what is obviously the captain's cabin. It's rather more sparsely furnished than he would have expected – a bed in one corner, a small desk sat before a small window, a tall cupboard against the wall not far from the door. But then, Captain Turner hadn't been at it for long enough to warrant much else just yet.

Speaking of Turner, she's leaning on the front of her desk. She is armed, a sword at her waist, a pistol tucked into the belt. Long dark hair falls loose about her shoulders and she's wearing a simple blouse, untucked, the neckline plunging down to give him a tantalizing glimpse of… his eyes dart back up to meet hers resolutely, only to find that she's studying him, looking only a touch smug.

"Cut him loose." She tears her eyes away from him to look at one of the men who'd brought Andrews up from the brig. Andrews chances a glance back at the young man just behind him, who seems to be hesitating. Turner's tone grows a touch annoyed. "If you have any objections, Sparrow, by all means."

The young man – Sparrow, the name is all too familiar, some relation to the notorious pirate perhaps? The Admiral had mentioned him – scowls, muttering. "None at all, Captain." The sound of a blade being unsheathed, and Andrews brings his now free arms forward to rub his wrists, already lightly burned by the tightly tied ropes.

"That'll be all, then, I've much to discuss with Mister…?"

"Andrews." He gives her, somewhat begrudgingly.

"Andrews."

"Aye Cap'n." The young man answers. He and the other man leave, and Andrews finds himself left quite alone with this – woman? She's certainly playing at being one, but he can see she's young.

"Please, Mr. Andrews, come in." She gestures towards a chair set before the desk. "Have a seat." She pushes off the desk to walk around behind it, revealing the small wooden box he'd been keeping the papers – _those _papers – in. He's relieved to see said papers spread out on the desk as though she'd gone over them already. If she had and is now attempting to have a talk with him – a civilized one – then perhaps the time he'd spent searching her out had not been in vain.

"I take it you are now somewhat more aware of what is happening here." He ventures, gesturing towards the papers as he crosses the room with tentative steps.

"Somewhat. Enough to be vaguely intrigued, I'll admit. I was hoping you might feel obliged to further enlighten me." She sits in the chair behind the desk, leaning back in it casually, but those eyes of hers are watching him intently.

When the Admiral had commissioned him to track down Peg Leg Turner, he had been quite adamant that she not be underestimated. Andrews had had a hard time believing that a woman could be as much a threat as the Admiral seemed to think she could be, but now, face to face with her after she'd just sent his ship to the depths along with a good portion of his crew… he's already beginning to realize that the Admiral had indeed known what he was talking about. She has the tempting body of a woman – leg notwithstanding – but the calculating eyes and manner of a man. In fact, she even talks like one, and he wonders how such a girl came to be able to talk like one so well educated.

This – would be interesting. He pauses as long as he dares, trying to decide how he should go about this. Should he treat her as what she is – an insolent girl playing dress up? Perhaps not, as this insolent girl _does, _apparently, have an entire ship of able-bodied men at her command, and he's hardly in a position to put her in her place. His best bet, then, is to play along. For the moment.

"Well, it's really quite simple as far as I've been told." He sits himself in the chair across from her, albeit somewhat stiffly, trying for a tentative show of good faith. "You've read the letters."

"I have, but I can't fathom why the Admiral feels all this," she gestures to the letters splayed out on the desk, "is necessary. I am no fool. What he's offering here should hardly be possible for him to grant a woman."

"I can assure you," he chooses his words with care, "I know only what the Admiral saw fit to tell me. You and Miss Gibbs, along with young Mister Sparrow, would all be under the employ of the company, not the crown, as would any man we could all agree is fit to crew this ship."

"And yet you would still be taking my ship itself from me." One small, delicate hand winds its way up to play with the rubies dangling from the gold necklace around her neck. His eyes dart downward, but only very briefly, refusing to be tempted. He notes, mentally, that he shall have to inform the Admiral that his obsession has become something of a temptress on top of all else.

Insolent girl, he thinks again when his mind settles on what she'd said. How dare she assume this ship could ever rightfully be hers in anyone's eyes but her own? "On paper, as it were, yes." He keeps his voice even, makes sure to give nothing away. "Working for the Admiral would, of course, require at least the appearance of propriety. How it is run when out at sea would be entirely up to you and Mr. Sparrow."

She's not entirely buying it, he can see it in those hard though beautiful eyes of hers. "And just what sort of work would we be doing for the Admiral?"

"Nothing of the sort that you aren't already quite familiar with, I'd imagine. The Admiral would only presume to point you in the direction of enemies to the crown and otherwise so as to make your efforts a touch more productive and honorable."

"Honorable?" Now she looks thoroughly amused. "Is that what I'm to believe this is? An attempt to allow us to redeem ourselves?"

She is trying what patience he has. If she has no intention of making the deal then there's no reason for him to keep pretending. "In truth, Miss Turner? It doesn't sit well with me anymore than I'm sure it does you. I cannot fathom what the Admiral hopes to accomplish by making uncivilized scum such as you and your men into allies. I would not trust you for a moment even if you agreed. What you did with my ship a few nights past was impressive, I will admit, but as you did not go after the rest of my men, I can only assume you haven't the stomach for violence or cruelty, so here is my suggestion. You make for the nearest port and allow me and the boys you caught to go free, I will inform the Admiral that you are only a threat if provoked and even then are hardly worth his time, and if you are very lucky that will be the end of it."

Any trace of amusement is gone now. Her glare is so cold he is glad looks alone cannot kill, and he is intrigued at the prospect that perhaps, just maybe, she is about to prove him wrong. She stands and places her hands on the desk just so, leaning forward on it, towering over him. "Mister Andrews." She says, her tone coldly condescending. "Why, in my goddesses sweet name, would you ever think that I would allow you to simply go free?"

That is a touch unexpected. She seems to truly want an answer. He wants to stand as he feels discomfortingly small in his current position, but the looks she is giving him coupled with the fact that she is armed… insolent girl or not, she is, currently, at least somewhat dangerous. He doesn't move a muscle. "Well…" He stumbles over his words a bit. "What else would you do with us? Leaving us to rot in the brig would be a waste of your resources unless you intended to let us starve, in which case you'd be left with three bodies to dispose of… and surely you didn't think you could ever force us to turn pirate."

"You? Perhaps not. I might be inclined to try with the pretty boys below. But you." She stands, crosses her arms. "Sparrow!" She calls in a tone too firm and commanding to come from a member of the gentle sex, and he is just beginning to get the idea that perhaps he really is in trouble.

He turns cautiously in his seat to watch the young man from earlier appear in the now open doorway. "Cap'n."

"Haul this slimy, smart-mouthed cur back up on deck and fetch me some rope. Oh, and bring our other two guests up as well. I want them to watch."

Sparrow nods and strides forward with the another man in tow, each taking Andrews by the arms and dragging him back out of the captain's cabin. The dread doesn't become overwhelming until they reach the deck and he is dragged across it to the side facing the island in the distance. It is only then that realization dawns. Is she really going to make him walk the plank? It would sound comical almost if there wasn't a plank in fact set up for him to walk.

Now, he starts to pray.

"Not so smug, are we now, Mr. Andrews?" Turner says, mocking, as she strolls forward, her men parting to let her through. "Honestly, you were quite correct. There's not much else I could do with you. So, I shall give you a choice." She's handed a coil of rope, which she tosses to him. "You can tie yourself a noose and hang from my mast like the common criminal you think _I _am, in which case your death will be quicker and fairly painless. Or," she gestures towards the land in the distance, "you can jump and take your chances, in which case you _may_, perhaps, be rescued." She glances at his midshipmen, standing off to the side, eyes wide and fearful. "The same goes for you, lads. Unless, of course, you'd be open to the idea of joining my crew, but we can discuss that later. Mr. Andrews? What's it to be?"

He stares down at the rope in his hands and knows it's really his best option. He tries to make his hands move, to do as she'd said, but they won't. He deliberates as long as he dares then drops the rope and turns to take a swim instead.

"Oh, yes, I almost forgot." Turner goes on when Sparrow reappears, holding Andrews' pistol. "One shot, a kindness really. At least you won't have to suffer the time it would require for hunger or thirst to take you." She grabs the pistol and makes as if to toss it into the water…

"Wait!" He exclaims on impulse. "Miss Tu – captain. Captain Turner. I have – I have made a grievous miscalculation, it appears. Please forgive my arrogant assumptions. I could in fact be quite useful to you indeed."

She pauses, and for a moment a flicker of genuine surprise crosses her pretty face. "Oh? I'm listening."

"The Admiral – he trusted me. If – if you would show mercy, to me _and _my boys here, I might be persuaded to tell you what I do know." One of the midshipmen inches forward in response to this as if about to protest, but a sharp glance from Andrews silences him instantly.

"Would you?" Turner mocks. "Does the Admiral know, I wonder, how little the loyalty of his supposed friends actually means?"

"You'd be hard pressed I'm sure, Captain, to find any man who wouldn't be willing to bargain for his very life if it became necessary, no matter how loyal." Andrews defends himself firmly.

"Ah. Perhaps I was wrong. We could make a decent pirate out of this fellow after all, eh gents?" She addresses her crew, who snigger and jeer. Andrews lets out a shaky breath and tells himself he's not really selling his soul, he'll find a way out of this. Ending up here is no fault of his own; can he be blamed for wanting to live knowing what will await him should he die here at sea? Turner goes on. "Allow me to officially welcome you aboard the _Sea's Queen_, Mr. Andrews. Alex," she again addresses the tall young man, Sparrow, "have our guests brought down to the guest cabin." Sparrow looks about to protest, Andrews notes, but Turner plows on before he can. "Jo, where have you been hiding?" Another figure makes her way over to the captain, a petite but sturdy woman with dark curls pulled back loosely. "What say we get these fine gentlemen something to eat, they must be…"

He barely hears her, really. He can't decide whether he's relieved or not. It's almost as if this had all been quite planned on her part. The thought that she could be so conniving lights a fire in him. He will not be bested by a woman. He will have to bide his time to get out of this. But he _will not _be bested by a woman.

* * *

><p>"Alright, what is it? It would be easier, you know, if you simply told me when something is wrong." Emily and Alex have retired to her – no, to hell with it, she's making it theirs. Their cabin. She's lounging on the bed, watching him as he takes his time reading through the letters. She wonders, off-handedly, who taught him to read. His mother would have had to, she supposes, and that leads her into wondering at the realization that he never talks much about his mother…<p>

He doesn't look at her. "Who said somethin 'ad to be wrong?"

"You won't look at me. Usually you can hardly keep your eyes _off _of me, and don't think I don't notice." She points out, flirting shamelessly.

Now he rolls those eyes before finally directing them at her, holding up the letter with his name on it as he does. "Is this – are these _real_?"

"Quite real. Ridiculous, I know."

He pauses, long enough to be worrying. "Ridiculous."

"Alex." She says with a sigh, sitting up. "Tell me you're not considering…" Is he? Looking at him, she really can't tell. His expression is quite unreadable. She thinks, just maybe, that she sees something in his eyes…

"Course not." He says firmly, scowling, once again the rogue he now presents himself as.

"You still haven't answered my question."

"S'not important."

"It is to me."

"Well. Beg pardon, your highness."

"Sparrow, you're heading for a slap now."

"It wasn't part of the plan, that's all." He comes out with finally, setting the letter aside.

"Wasn't part of the… Andrews? You mean the plan that involved us marooning them, quite possibly leaving them to die?" She replies flippantly. "I didn't think you'd object to me sparing them that, but if you'd really like, I could just go shoot all three of them and be done with it."

"_Don't_ say things like that." He snaps back.

"Why not? I would. I have not an ounce of sympathy for them."

"I 'ave none for that captain, I'll admit, but those midshipmen could be younger than us! Who's to say they know anythin beyond the orders their given?"

"Well, what do you propose we do with them then?"

He pauses now, looking exasperated. "I don't know." Emily only snorts, so he goes on. "I just don't understand what's gotten into you. First ye were all for the idea of makin what's-'is-name take a swim, but then instead ye're letting 'im stay on? Why, exactly? So ye can toy with 'im in the vague 'ope that 'e'll tell ye somethin useful?"

"Toy with him? Goddess, Alex."

"Well? Sounds to me like exactly the thing _Peg_ would do. I saw the look on ye're face when Andrews asked ye to spare 'im. Ye're dyin for information about the Admiral, but I can't understand why, why not just leave it alone? Surely 'e'd give up eventually if we..."

"He took me," she cuts Alex off, "I wasn't even eight years old and he took me, had me dragged onto this – this massive ship with soldiers carrying rifles and then he threw me in the brig like I was already some sort of criminal! Can't that be reason enough?"

"It could be, I'll grant ye that, but it's more than that, isn't it?" Alex is studying her now, intently, and suddenly she wishes he'd _stop _looking at her. "When they caught ye a few months ago, what 'appened? What could they 'ave done to make ye want 'im so bad?"

"I already told you…"

"No." He says forcefully. "Ye didn't. Ye left pieces out, just like ye left pieces of ye're vision out. We can play that game if ye want, Emily, dancin around the truth, but tell me this, 'ow can I trust ye if ye won't let me?"

She makes a decision in that moment, and she tells herself it's not for any other reason than because she wants to spare him somehow. "You can't, I suppose." She says. "Not fully."

"So that's it then?" He stands when she doesn't answer immediately. "I knew I shouldn't have come with you. Should've stayed at Shipwreck, kept things so much simpler." He stalks across the room as if to leave.

"Alex, wait!" She exclaims just as he reaches the door, shooting across the room after him. "I'm – I'm asking you to trust me anyway." She gets very quiet, eyes wide and vulnerable, shoulders slumped. "Because you – you love me, and that's what love is sometimes, right? Just – trusting. Trust when I say there's a reason I won't tell you, but I will. I just need time." She didn't promise. She can't promise, never promises unless she absolutely means it. With any luck he won't think of it. She crosses her fingers…

Oh goddess, he buys it. He softens slowly, reaching out to pull her close, gathering her in his arms. "Fine, fine." He says, placing a kiss atop her head before pulling back to place one on her lips and then look down at her, brushing a strand of her dark waves out of her face. "There's my Emily. Wish she'd come 'round more often."

"I'll try, for you." She offers a small smile, but he's wrong, very wrong. It's not Emily he takes to bed that night. Choosing to be Emily would have meant being brave and _telling _him, telling him what had really happened when _they_ got a hold of her months earlier, telling him that she wanted revenge pure and simple, telling him that she was quite probably going to die and there was quite possibly not a thing she could do to stop it. Emily would have had the guts to tell the truth and _let him in_. But she chooses to be Peg – to be a pirate.

She doesn't deserve him.

He takes her to bed that night and she stays awake long after him, wondering just how long she can keep him convinced there's much of Emily left in her, because she herself is thoroughly convinced there isn't much at all.

* * *

><p>Tortuga. It doesn't occur to him until the bustling, drunken port comes into view as they sail straight for it. It had to be Tortuga. He may be in a bit of trouble. Depending on Emily's mood, a bit of very <em>deep <em>trouble. She had seemed oddly trigger happy as of late…

"Alex, I have no idea how long this journey will take, why wouldn't you take the chance to get off the ship?" Emily looks truly baffled, and he's already starting to sweat. He can't explain to her. He'd hoped she'd just leave it alone. Perhaps he should've known better.

"I just –," he runs through a list of excuses, "thought per'aps we could stay 'ere, you and I." He finishes, smooth as he can manage, pulling her close by her waist. "Have the ship all to ourselves, to do as we please." He places a kiss on her lips.

"Alex." She giggles a bit. "I have to go with Jo, we'll need supplies."

"And ye can't just tell Jo to acquire them?" He trails kisses along her jaw to her ear so he can murmur into it. "I'd very much like to have ye all to meself."

"Alex." She breaths, but pushes him away firmly. "I saw the _Pearl _out there too, I want to go see Uncle, if mother paid him a visit…"

Alex scowls. "Ye still worry too much. M'sure dad's fine."

She crosses her arms and eyes him a bit. "You were complaining just this morning about the porridge Jo cooked up, I figured you'd be dying for a proper meal."

She had him there. Oh boy. "I was, wasn't I?" She's not going to let it go. There's nothing for it, he'll have to go with her. Maybe he can manage to steer her clear of… yes, that's it. Easy. "Alright, darling." He concedes. "Ladies first."

…

Alright, so, it _should _have been easy. Night hasn't quite fallen yet, and things are somewhat less rowdy during the daytime, they wander a bit. They slip in and out of a few shops. He teases her about the dresses in one of the windows they pass, commenting in his most playful, roguish manner that for a girl as beautiful as Emily it should be a dress – or nothing. She threatens him with bodily harm even as she attempts not to laugh. They wander into the bookshop she'd discovered on one of her first visits to Tortuga and he buys her a book – though not without a bit of protest from her, of course, but he insists.

But as night falls and she points out that his dad is likely to be at his favorite tavern – The Faithful Bride – by now, Alex feels a growing sense of dread. Because what he was hoping to avoid is just up the street from the Bride. Maybe he can still… taking a breath, Alex slips a bold arm around Emily's shoulders. She glances up at him, but doesn't protest it, much to his relief. He actually begins to relax a bit as the familiar, rowdy, run down tavern comes into view. If his father hadn't yet managed to run out of all that dumb luck the Sparrows are known for, surely Alex must have plenty left to serve him well tonight?

"Alex Sparrow!"

He winces. _Damn. _

Emily's already pulling away a bit, turning around out of curiosity. Slowly he turns as well.

The girl can't be much older than he, a petite and exotic little beauty with long dark curls and skin the milky color of chocolate. Big, dark eyes peer out from long, thick lashes as full, pouting lips pull up into a smile that says she is not at all perturbed by the way Alex had been keeping Emily so close. She is dressed no different from all the other ladies of the night scattered about the particular inn they are in front of, but she is a fair bit younger than the rest, and far more beautiful.

Not as beautiful as Emily, of course. But – closer to it than anyone else he's set eyes upon so far.

"Ruby." He stutters a bit, and Emily is turning her eyes back to him now with both eyebrows raised, and before he can do or say much else Ruby is strutting right up to him. Those pouting lips are covering his as a delicate, familiar little hand comes up to rest on his shoulder.

She smirks a bit when she pulls away, then gives him a playful pout. "You didn't think you were going to walk right by without saying hello, now, did you?"

"'Course not, dearie." He replies with a roguish grin, perhaps out of habit, perhaps because his only options are to keep up the façade he's been working with or – not. And keeping it up is becoming easier than – not.

Emily clears her throat. Ruby turns, her smile becoming less seductive and more I-don't-want-trouble. "I'm sorry, I don't mean to be rude. I'm Ruby."

Emily sends a glare in Alex's direction, so cold he's sure Hell itself is freezing over. "So he said."

Ruby doesn't miss a beat. "You must be Emily, Emily Turner? Alex has spoken quite fondly of you."

Emily snorts in a way that suggests she is not at all flattered by this. "Has he now?" He only shrugs, so she turns her eyes on the smaller woman before her. "I go by Peg, actually, I'm sorry, I don't believe Alex has mentioned you at all."

"Ah, but of course he hasn't." Ruby looks back to Alex, hands coming up to rest on her hips, but her manner is more playful than anything else. "Quite the charmer you're becoming, aren't you, Alex? There's near as much talk of you as there is your father, you know."

Alex doesn't miss a beat either. "Near? S'ppose I'm not tryin quite 'ard enough, then, am I? But then, t'isn't so appealin, charmin anyone else with a lass so lovely as you around."

Ruby raises her eyebrows and turns back to Emily. "There he goes. And how much would you be willing to bet he's used that on at least one other 'lovely lass' in every port he's been to?"

"Ah, but none of them are near as lovely as you." He takes Ruby's hand and plants a kiss on her palm.

Ruby breaks into a seductive smile again. "Oh, I'm sure. They're just lucky to have such a strapping young lad paying them such attentions, means there's plenty to go around."

"Mmm, plenty indeed." He finishes off with a wink.

Emily looks back and forth between them both, and he thinks maybe, just maybe, he sees her hand inch towards her pistol, and he braces himself for whatever's coming… but then she gets a particular look on her face, and it's not angry, but he knows he's still in trouble, because that's the look Peg gets when she's ready to play. "Well, now, since you two seem such good _friends_, I think I'll just be on my way, and you." She sidles up closer to Alex, leaning in so their lips are inches apart. "Can feel free to come find me later. If, that is, there really is _enough _to," she clears her throat theatrically, "go around."

He smirks and leans in for a kiss, but she pulls away just before their lips meet. Ruby stifles a laugh, and he sends a look in her direction before calling after Emily, who is already strolling away as though not at all bothered by what's just happened. "Where are ye going, _Captain_?"

She pauses, turns halfway back around. "To find Uncle. And Jo. And a drink." She pauses, apparently thinking that through, then adds, "Decidedly not in that order. Goodbye, Sparrow."

And with that she is gone, and he is abruptly left wondering what _exactly _has just happened, anyway?


	48. No Apologies

_She pauses, turns halfway back around. "To find Uncle. And Jo. And a drink." She pauses, apparently thinking that through, then adds, "Decidedly not in that order. Goodbye, Sparrow."_

_And with that she is gone, and he is abruptly left wondering what exactly has just happened, anyway?_

* * *

><p>Jo, as it happens, is nowhere to be found, which is curious but not worrying. Jack, however, is exactly where Emily knew he would be, which makes the acquiring of a drink fairly easy as well.<p>

"You know, Uncle," she says as she sits herself down across from him with two mugs, one of which she hands off to him, "one of these days you're going to have to tell me just how you got that ship out of the bottle. I am still dying to know."

He accepts the mug, a smile tugging at his lips. "I still say ye wouldn't believe me if I told ye."

"And I still say there's not much I wouldn't be willing to believe considering whose daughter I am."

"How many times 'ave we 'ad this conversation?"

"I think I've lost count." She laughs. "It's nice to see you, Uncle."

"And you, Captain." He smiles in return. Captain. He's made a point of calling her that every now and then ever since learning the Queen was hers, teasing, but not mocking in the way Alex says it. This is how they start out their conversations whenever they see each other now, and the familiarity is comforting. "So, to what do I owe the pleasure?"

"Do I need a reason to want to see you?"

"No, but I can always tell when ye 'ave one."

"You know me too well." She sighs, taking a drink from her mug.

"Watched ye grow right up, I did, I ought to know ye well. So what is it?"

"I – that is, we – the Queen was paid a rather interesting visit."

"Oh?" His brows furrow just slightly.

She nods. "And this most interesting visitor," and she realizes that she can't quite get out the word 'mother' any longer , "might have mentioned something about having come to see you, as well. Hoping to find, she said, a certain coveted and supposedly broken compass."

Realization dawns and he nods. "Ah." He studies her a bit. "And when was this, then?"

"Some days ago now."

"I see. My apologies. I do not, in truth, have said supposedly broken compass, as I told our interesting visitor. I suppose she took that to mean I'd given it to someone else for the keeping, though I can't fathom why she would assume that someone to be you."

"Well, I don't know why she assumed so either, particularly since it was only after her visit that I found out I do have it." Emily shakes her head. "The point is, I couldn't be sure of when exactly she'd come to talk to you, so I only wanted to be sure you're alright."

"Me? I'm always alright, dearie. Incidentally, it's you I'm worried about now." He goes to drink from his own mug, but stops at the last minute, looking back to her. "Now, 'old on. How did you come to acquire me compass?"

At this, Emily bursts into laughter. "Ask Mr. Gibbs. Jo's the one who had it but didn't actually know what it was. Apparently it's been tucked away in her cabin, safe and sound, for months now."

"Fancy that. And 'ere I thought it was good and lost this time. Well, it's all yers now, then, maybe the blasted thing'll actually work for ye."

"Oh, it works." She remembers opening the thing up out of curiosity one morning after another night spent with Alex. It had, of course, been pointing straight to him. That, she thought, could prove to be quite the problem if she ever wanted to find anything else. "Well enough to be quite useless." She adds, drinking from her mug again, trying to hide her blush.

But of course, her Uncle notices anyway. "Now that look, dearie, I know."

"What look?" She asks innocently.

"The look," he says, smiling but quite serious, "of a woman in love."

Now she scoffs. "Oh, Uncle."

"What? S'true, isnnit?"

"It's true I've a man now, but I'm not sure 'love' is the right word." She remembers Alex and Ruby, and drinks again.

"Well, the point still stands. Are ye goin to tell me who t'is?"

She pauses, trying to think of how exactly to go about telling him, staring down into her drink. "Did I mention," she says finally, airily, "Alex is sailing with me again? We put in at Shipwreck again, long story that, and he just happened to be there, so…" She dares to lift her eyes back up to meet her Uncle's.

To her relief, he's grinning the trouble grin he'd handed down to Alex. "I knew it was me boy. No one else can make ye smile quite like that."

"Oh, and he most certainly is his father's son." She's not smiling now.

Her uncle softens. "Dare I ask – what's it 'e's done?"

She pauses, and he watches with raised eyebrows as she drains her mug, then holds it up. "That, I think, might take another to explain."

* * *

><p>Alex really does end up going with Ruby, and they do end up in her room at the place she works – but only because she's supposed to be <em>working<em>, so it's the only way she can get a few moments with him without being hassled. They are friends, so all they do, however, is talk. He is not his father. He hadn't been looking for _that_ when he'd met Ruby; he'd seen her being pulled into a dark alley by a very large and very drunk man and had saved her from something not even a lady of the night should have to endure. He had spent quite a few nights with her since, but that had come after. He is not his father. (He is, however, to be fair, very much a young man with a woman always on his mind – always one very magnificent woman in particular, but he doesn't suppose that Emily will feel any better about it if he tells her he was only ever thinking of her, no matter what he was doing.)

Ruby, eventually, to his surprise, shoos him out and tells him to go try and get the girl that's actually his. He tries to argue that he's not sure he can call Emily 'his' – Peg certainly won't have herself belonging to anyone, save her goddess – but Ruby just gives him a knowing grin and insists he go.

So, go he does. Expecting Emily is probably still visiting with his father, he winds his way past the rowdy drunks in the Faithful Bride, finally finding Jack off in a corner with one of his own lady friends on his arm. "Ah, Alex!" He greets. "Was wondering when you'd turn up!"

"Dad." He replies. "Ye 'aven't, by chance, seen a certain feisty lady captain anywhere about? I seem to 'ave lost mine."

"Indeed I 'ave. Funny, though, sounded to me more like she'd been tryin to lose you." His father's tone is just on the border of being scolding.

Alex chooses to ignore it. "Well, in that case, she has done a most wonderful job, as I 'aven't a clue where she is if not 'ere."

"You might be better off leavin 'er be for tonight, boy, she seemed in a bit of a mood when she left. With good reason, apparently." Still a touch scolding. The woman that has been attempting to regain Jack's attention seems to sense some tension growing, as she murmurs something to the older Sparrow before scurrying away.

Alex's eyes narrow. "I s'ppose she told ye about – about earlier, then? Honestly, Dad, I don't believe it's your business."

His father holds his hands up in surrender. "I've no room to be scoldin ye on this, true enough. I only mean to say ye've got somethin special with 'er. Somethin' not every man finds." He meets Alex's eyes, all too serious. "Best be careful not to waste it."

Alex scowls. "If it is wasted," he pauses, sighs, "the fault will be 'ers, not mine."

His father's brows furrow. "The way she'd talked one would 'ave thought…"

Alex sits himself down across from his father, leaning in a bit. "Dad… I tried to – to do right by 'er, in all the ways I knew 'ow. She was 'aveing none of it. It seems as though she doesn't want respectable, she wants a –"

Realization dawns on his father's face. "A pirate. Just like 'er mum in ways, that girl. I thought it sounded odd, I still remember the lad who couldn't stop talkin of the only girl he seemed to know existed. So all that with this Ruby was a clever little show, then?"

Alex fights back a blush. He won't be scolded by Jack, not on this off all things. Instead he just gives his father a roguish grin.

Jack scowls. "Well, I've no 'elp for ye then, boy."

"I don't think I was asking for it, Dad." Alex pauses as something else comes to mind. "Mind, that's not all I'd be needing 'elp with. Did she 'appen to mention anythin about the visions she's been 'aving?"

"Visions? No, although she did mention a particularly strange visitor. I believe she said she was stayin at that inn she favors if ye want to talk to 'er, I wish ye luck. I've a feeling ye'll need it."

Alex shakes his head and stands, heading out of the tavern with determined strides. He's about had it with walking on eggshells around Emily Turner. She wanted a pirate, so that's what he's giving her. Besides, he'd forgotten all about Ruby and any others like her when he and Emily had finally spent a proper night together. All she had to do was tell him what she wanted from him, but she refused to do so, was too busy trying to be hard like the men she sailed with. Does she really have a right to be angry?

(He tells himself she doesn't, but he knows she really does, and he's beginning to realize the line between what's actually _Alex_ and what's just an act is starting to blur, and he wonders how long it'll be before all that's left of _Alex_ is what _Emily _started him becoming.)

* * *

><p>She's sitting with Jo in the small, cozy common room at the Good Goddess, playing cards, when Alex appears in the doorway. He startles several of the barmaids scattered around as he stalks across the room, and Emily supposes he can look a bit menacing on the rare occasion he gets angry. She's hardly afraid of him, though, and only raises her eyebrows at him as he comes up. "You know, I must admit, I wasn't <em>actually <em>expecting you'd come find me later. I figured you'd at least wait until tomorrow to try for an apology."

"An apology? I wouldn't 'old ye're breath if that's what ye're lookin for, dearie."

Jo seems to quickly decide this is not a conversation she wants in the middle of, as she downs the drink in front of her and then stands, brushing her dress out and avoiding eye contact with either of them. "Well, I think that means time to go for me." She goes on to mumble a 'good night' before making her escape.

Alex sits himself down where the older woman had been, and Emily _wants to get angry or slap him or burst into tears or maybe do all three _but she doesn't do any of those things because she's learned by now that she has to be tougher than that. "I didn't say I was _looking _for an apology, I only said I figured you'd try for one."

"I know ye well enough to know when ye're angry, Peg."

Peg? Why would he call her that? He never calls her that, and so pointedly, too. She hides her confusion with a scowl. "Alright, yes, I wasn't exactly _pleased _to meet one of your little whores, and you do know how to pick them don't you? Adrienne and then Ruby, they always manage to be the most pretty."

"Jealousy, is that all this is?" He snaps back. "And 'ere I was 'opin ye'd be above all that."

"Forget it, Sparrow. Honestly, I wasn't actually stupid enough to believe I was special." She leans in a little, lowering her voice, and she blames it on the rum she's had throughout the night, what she says next. "It only proves how right I was all those months ago, doesn't it? _Love_ is a – a fairytale, a bedtime story Alex."

"We live in a world of _fairytales, _dearie, and most of them are true, ye know."

"Well, this is the one that simply isn't."

The anger in his eyes fades and for a moment, just a moment, he gets that sad look she thinks she sees sometimes… but it is, as always, gone as quickly as it came. "Right, then. As I said. I make no apologies."

"And I'll ask for none. I am not your…" And there it is again. What are they, exactly? What would she like to be? She still doesn't know. "It's none of my business as long as I don't hear about it." She settles back in her chair again and contemplates getting ahold of one of the barmaids for another drink as she gathers up the cards she and Jo had been playing with.

"Good." Alex snaps back as she does. The silence that follows is heavy enough to be almost unbearable. Something inside of her screams that YES, she absolutely _does _want an apology! She wants him to beg her forgiveness for _Ruby _and any and every other woman he's ever even _looked at _with those thoughts in mind! She wants him to stop acting like – like a stupid, sleazy _pirate_!

But she's not delusional. She understands she can't demand that of him with the line she's firmly drawn. So Emily screams silently while Peg stands calmly. "You could stay. Here, I mean, with me for the night. I…" _I can hardly sleep at all without you. _She doesn't actually go on.

She expects him to soften like he normally does, to stand and follow her to the room she's calling hers for the night. He does stand, but the expression on his face remains guarded. "What?" He asks, quiet but demanding. "Finish the sentence, Peg."

What does he want her to say? Abruptly annoyed, she huffs, pushing past him. "Good night, Alex."

* * *

><p><em>My Dearest Brother,<em>

_I am currently preparing to embark on a journey that I'm no longer sure I'll come back from in one piece. I fear I have angered my goddess somehow and as such am no longer sure I have her so entirely on my side as I am used to. Mind, I do not fully believe she has abandoned me either, but I thought some warning might be fair to you. If my _Queen _can make the journey in one piece, however, I plan to head straight for Shipwreck when we make it back, as I intend to have a new guest aboard that I think you'll very much want to see. Watch for us, Joshy. I did promise, remember?_

_I also feel I owe it to you to tell you that you were a better judge of Alex than I knew until recently. That does not make it anymore your job to defend me, as he is still a good man (_and here she very nearly puts _boy _out of a habit that has yet to be broken_, _but decides against it because they are neither of them children anymore) _and I no damsel, I can fend for myself well enough. I am sorry for being hard on you nonetheless. Please forgive me, for that and for anything else I may need to apologize for, as I'm sure you could come up with quite the list by now._

_With all my love,_

_Emily_

She deliberates for some time on whether to actually send it. It's quite possible that she'll be fine and therefore what she'd written will only serve to worry Joshy over nothing, but on the other hand… she wants to make sure to get that final apology out, for her own sake as much as for his. In the end she decides to be selfish – she sends the letter.

* * *

><p>"Jo!" The older woman grimaces in a way that would normally have Emily feeling terrible for the tone she'd taken, but this morning she's in no mood to give out any apologies. "Please tell me you've seen Sparrow."<p>

"And good morning to you, Cap'n." Is the sarcastic response. Emily glares. Jo heaves a long suffering sigh, forcing a tone as respectful as one could expect on a pirate ship. "Last I saw of Alex the two of you looked about ready to have a row in the middle of the Goddess."

"Yes, and then we did. Sort of. And then he left and now he's not _here_."

"Well what would make you think I know where he is?"

"I was just hoping you'd seen him. I swear if he's not here by the time we cast off, I'll leave his sorry arse behind."

"No you won't." Jo gives an unladylike snort, then mutters. "Almost wish you would with the way you two…"

"What?" Emily snaps.

"Nothing, Cap'n." The older woman shakes her head as she slips past, heading for the galley.

Thinking over the events of the previous night, Emily calls back to her. "I'm going to look for him."

"Of course you are."

"Jo!" She snaps again, but there's a touch of affection behind it this time. There beginning to sound like sisters again. They do this often.

The older woman turns around, hand on her hip, eyebrow raised, but there's a smile just tugging at her lips. "_Aye, Cap'n_. I'll keep an eye on things here."

"And I thank you." And on that note, Emily leaves.

...

He'll never dig himself out of this one. He knows this the moment he wakes and can feel the sun shining on his face through the small window of… oh no. He hopes for a moment that it isn't true. He can't possibly have been so impulsive (stupid, _stupid_) as to…

Slowly, he opens his eyes, takes in his surroundings. Sure enough, he recognizes the bed he's lying on, the chest of drawers on one wall with its mirror… and there she is. Ruby. Still sound asleep, her black curls a wild mess, her arm draped over his draped over her tiny waist, her skin bare and soft and damning. _Bugger_.

Taking his arm back – slow and careful, no need to wake her – he slips out of the bed and begins dressing hastily. Snatching up his affects with his shirt only half tucked in and his vest left open, he slips out of the room, out onto the sparsely populated streets – and runs full tilt for the docks.

…

The streets of the hung-over port are sparsely populated and the sun shines bright enough that Emily's mood begins to improve, if only a little. Alex has her now. Her first instinct is to think he'd gone back to spend the night with _Ruby_, but she keeps calm, forces herself to give him the benefit of the doubt. He has her now. What happened over the seventeen months or so they'd been apart isn't important because he has her now and he wouldn't...not when he has her. Would he?

Maybe she's asking too much. Maybe she's over complicating it. Maybe they are pirates and that's all the excuse or explanation he needs anymore. When had that happened, she wonders. When did they stop being children, just surviving, and really become _pirates? _

This thought has only just had time to wriggle its way into her head before – well, she doesn't really know what happens. All she knows is that the wind is knocked out of her and she is falling, falling until she hits the ground hard, pain shooting through her head and down her back, her vision blurring. She can't breathe, her chest grows heavy, and _oh_, well, that might be because there's someone on top of it…

"_Bugger_." The familiar exclamation reaches her ears, and her vision begins to clear, just enough…

"Sparrow! Get the _hell _off me." She shoves him angrily, and he scrambles to his feet.

"Emily! I'm sor-I wasn't look-let me help…" Alex reaches out his hand, seemingly on impulse.

She swats it away angrily as she stands, one hand coming up to rub the back of her now aching head as she looks him over. His shirt is half untucked. His vest isn't buttoned. His hair isn't pulled back it usually is. "What is the matter with you?"

…

"I'm sorry." He tries again. "I…" She looks angry, but not to the degree he'd expect if she suspected… is it possible she's _not _jumping to (all the right, granted, but still) conclusions?

"Well?" She demands in her 'I'm the captain' tone, brushing off her blouse a bit before crossing her arms.

He could lie. He could lie through his teeth and with any luck she'd never know and he'd be saved a world of trouble. But should he really? She seems to be making a habit of not being entirely honest with him. He decides he doesn't care about _should _anymore. Besides, this is certainly the last time he intends to find himself in this situation; he'll be all Emily's from now on, he swears it to himself. "I…" He trails off and makes a show of closing his eyes and swaying a bit. "I must've 'ad too much to drink las' night after... Only jus' woke up an' I knew ye'd be gettin ready to cast off soon." And it's so blatant a lie it's ridiculous, he hadn't had a drop to drink all night, isn't really much of a drinker at all, though he tries to pretend otherwise for the usual reasons.

She studies him a moment, softening, beginning to look a touch worried and, perhaps, guilty. "I'd never go anywhere without you, you twit, you should know that. Are you – alright? I mean, about last night, I'd been…"

"M'fine." He grumbles back, a touch more surly, even throwing in a scowl for good measure as he rakes a hand through his hair and slips past her. "Don't ye 'ave a ship to run or somethin, _Cap'n_?"

He can feel her worried eyes on his back as he follows, so apparently she's buying it. He keeps up the act, stalking off towards the ship, and tries to decide whether to feel proud of himself.

* * *

><p>"<em>Mother. Mother, please." She is pleading and terrified, but her voice is steady because she's also determined, so determined because she so badly does not want to die and by her goddess she won't go down without a fight, doesn't matter who she's fight<em>ing_. "I don't want to fight with you."_

_Her mother – Captain Swann – all slimy, scaly skin and seaweed hair – but it's not seaweed, seaweed doesn't move like that, and it almost looks like… "I can't let you do this Emily…" _

But she's heard this conversation before by now, over and over and over again, there _has _to be more, what is she missing? What is Calypso trying to tell her? Her mother looks a little different, there's those gills, were those more recent too?

"_Simple?" Her mother mocks. "Tell me, just what is your plan, then?" And she's pacing a slow circle around Emily, like a shark… and there's a hissing, it sounds like…_

…like the mermaids, Emily remembers, at Whitecap Bay, snake-like hissing, and her mother's hair, it didn't move like that when Emily first began having these dreams, or for that matter any other time before that she'd caught a glimpse of her mother. There's something to this, she knows it, what is it, think, think…

_Emily squares her shoulders. "I would never ask Alex to do such a thing."_

"_Ah," Captain Swann sounds almost gleeful, "but that does not leave out the third option, does it?"_

And they are fighting now, and Emily knows how this is going to end, and it twists her stomach, but she has to think past it, what's happening, what's _literally _happening? Emily's mother is _fast_ and damned determined, she gets past Emily's defenses several times, and Emily is backed into the corner, and her sword goes flying. Wet powder, her pistols won't fire, and then… just as her mother lunges, her hair flairs out, and it really _isn't _seaweed, it's snakes, darting and hissing and ready to bite, and Emily is abruptly reminded of the books she'd read, one of which had had a picture of a gorgon…

_And there's her mother's voice, as soft as it once was when Emily was still very small. "I'm sorry."_

And then the dream ends as abruptly as it always does. Emily shoots up in bed, gasping and clutching at her chest, half worried as she always is that she'll find a sword sticking out of it. But there isn't one, of course. She's alive and well and… alone. Alone? Why is she alone?

"Alex?" She calls softly, looking around her dimly lit cabin. But he's nowhere to be found. They'd fallen asleep together, as usual, why would he have left her? But then, she'd woken to find him gone the night before, too. She thinks maybe she should go after him, but she doesn't. She just sits and stares at nothing and tries to make sense of her vision and wonders why Alex isn't accepting her apology this time. She'd been drinking the night they'd argued. Not that much, and it would hardly be an excuse anyway, but she'd used it as one and he'd said she was forgiven, but he isn't acting like it, and he won't call her Emily anymore. It's always some pet name, or captain, or Peg now.

Why Peg? He's the only one around who knows her as _Emily_, or did, she doesn't understand and it bothers and confuses her. Why must she always be so bothered and confused by him? Or was this her fault. Has she managed to ruin things again? She seems to be good at that.

Heaving a sigh, she flops back down and pulls the covers up, closing her eyes determinedly. She's getting sick of feeling guilty, especially when it comes to Alex, and she knows by now how men work. Whatever's wrong with Alex now, he'll come back to her eventually, if only because of what he won't be getting without her.

Emily feels guiltier still for thinking like this, but Peg is getting louder than Emily, and Peg just feels proud that's she's _learning _and hopes she's right.

…

"Do ye really know 'ow to read this?" He asks, his voice soft and unnaturally void of emotion. He's been like this ever since they'd left Tortuga, strangely subdued.

The old, intricate bamboo map is rolled out on Emily's desk, and she aligns its circles with care, using it as an excuse not to have to look at Alex. "Jo says that, according to her father, there's not much to be done with it after a certain point. Once we start in on the proper heading, the course will sort of set itself."

"That's – comforting." The words drip with sarcasm, but that's not unusual. Sarcasm is about the only thing he seems intent on expressing as of late.

"It doesn't sit well with me either, but I have to believe my goddess will get us there somehow. It's what we do _when _we're there..." She picks up her uncle's compass – now hers, apparently – and opens it. "I just hope this thing will still work." It settles briefly on Alex, and then on the bed she hasn't been getting much sleep in, and then just spins aimlessly before doing the same thing all over again. Worried that it may prove a bit useless anyway when the time comes, she closes it, and then her eyes. _Papa, papa, papa. My papa was taken from me and what I _want _is to have him back. _She opens her eyes, then slowly the compass again. It spins and spins, and then, to her amazement, points at something that _isn't _Alex. In fact, it really is pointing in the direction their heading… and then it's spinning again. Goddess, she's as bad as her uncle.

Alex has his eyebrows raised, watching her. With his hair tied back in a braid and the bandanna he'd acquired somewhere along the line, and the gold ring in his ear and the two rings on his fingers it looks like he may, somehow, have nicked from his father just for fun… Goddess, he's such a handsome bloody pirate, it's not fair. Blushing, she turns her attention back to the compass, which is now pointing straight at him, of course.

She shuts it and tosses it back on the desk. "You know, I don't know how I'm ever to get anything else done with you around to look so... you." She tells him.

"Look so me? How very descriptive of ye, dearie." And there's the ghost his smirk, her favorite smirk.

"Well, I'm not sure how else to describe a Sparrow. Mine is his own kind of perfection." She leans in for a kiss, but he hesitates. Pouting, she backs off and rolls up the map, tucking it back into the hidden compartment of the desk it had been hidden in (Anna had showed her; one could not afford to lose this particular map). "I think I'll go up and take the helm." She says, airy but pointed, trying to bait him, but he's not biting. He only nods and crosses the room to open the door for her. Giving up with a huff, she rolls her eyes at him before stalking out of their cabin.

* * *

><p><em><strong>I had a weird little burst of creativity over the past several days, the results being that the next chapter is written and I've just started on the one after that. And I seem to be all about the drama here lately. The next one is a little less of that and a lot more of them actually accomplishing some things, I promise. Thanks for reading, and thanks to <strong>_**horseloverhasajarofdirt, **_**my lone reviewer. :)**_


	49. The Locker

The landscape is beautiful. Mountains line their path, tall and magnificent in the bright sun… icebergs, covered in layers of snow. It's cold beyond cold here. The crew grabs every errant item of clothing they can get their hands on and tries to layer up and keep busy doing – any little task that can be found to be done, anything to keep their minds off the freezing and the snow.

Emily tries to get Alex to tell her what's wrong now, but he's being evasive and acting just strange. Well, perhaps that's not saying much, he's a Sparrow. Stranger than usual, then. She tries to get him to come to bed with her – with no real ulterior motive other than to warm up a fraction and because she misses him – but he shies away from the idea. He doesn't seem _angry_, leading her to believe it might not be anything she's done, but then, what is _it_? She can't figure it out. But she's nothing if not stubborn, so she just keeps trying.

…

The mountainous icebergs thin out slowly until there is nothing but leagues and leagues of blue in any direction. The moon shines full and bright this night, reflected perfectly against the water, a sight just as beautiful as the mountains before it – except they've stopped moving. There's no wind in the sails to speak off. Emily doesn't know what to do with this, but they are here now and panicking will do no one any good, so she decides to simply do nothing. Her goddess still won't answer any calls for help; there's nothing _can _be done until the wind decides to pick up again. At least the temperature has evened back out for the moment.

She worries, though, about anything and everything that is going on, enough to make her dizzy and sick with fear and apprehension. It doesn't help that it only just occurs to her that she's not sure what she'll do with her papa when she finally does have him back, and she worries to spite herself about how total his disapproval will be of who she's become and is still becoming.

Trying to distract herself, she settles her thoughts on Alex, again.

Thinking to make him jealous – after all, turnabout is only fair play, right? – she brings Andrews men up for some air. One is entirely uninterested in her, seeming to thoroughly share his captain's mentality when it comes to women and pirates, though he is at least smart enough not to say anything. His fellow midshipmen, however, is a different matter entirely. His name is Riley and he doesn't seem to know what to make of Emily, but when she tries her hand at flirting with him, she can see a mischievous glint in his eyes.

"May I ask something, Captain?"

"Of course."

He's looking out to sea. "Where are we? This place…"

"It feels different."

He looks back to her and nods and to spite the mischief she has a feeling he's capable of, she also senses a naivety that she herself had never had the privilege of having and decides not to tell him. "I seem to recall a saying about curiosity and a cat…" He opens his mouth to say something in return, but Alex has just come up on deck and spots her immediately, so she cuts the boy in front of her off. "Tell me, Riley, would you be terribly adverse to the idea of playing pirate?"

His mouth snaps shut and his brows furrow as he turns to look where Emily is, then back to look at her in confusion. "I'm – I'm sorry?"

"Just play along." She turns so her back is to the rail and then discreetly pulls him closer, and he's not _that _naïve it appears, because he catches on easily enough. He leans in as close as he probably dares and boldly rests a hand on her arm, perhaps as though to comfort. "Mr. Connolly." She says, just a touch louder than necessary, knowing Alex will be listening by now. "How sweet of you to offer such words of comfort to the woman who's imprisoned you."

"Well, how can one resist when so beautiful a woman stands looking so sad and lonely." He offers the smallest of smiles and brings a hand up to gently brush a strand of her hair out of her face, but goes no further than that, and his words sound sincere enough that she wonders if she really _does _look sad and lonely.

Emily glances in Alex's direction and is pleased to find him glaring, a hand hovering dangerously close to his pistol, his eyes hard… but his fist clenches and he only shakes his head before stalking off back in the direction he'd come from.

She thanks Riley, rewarding him with a kiss on his cheek, and contemplates trying to pull him in for more… but no. She is not a man; there are reasons a line must be drawn somewhere. Instead, she leaves him, sneaking off to steal a bottle of rum for herself before retreating to her cabin and selfishly allowing the spicy liquid to serve as a lullaby. If she dreams that night, she doesn't remember it when she wakes… and forgets to care when she finds herself curled up with Alex, his strong arms enveloping her as though he never wants to let her go again.

He doesn't comment on the bottle sitting on her desk, half empty, but does comment – in an off handed fashion that isn't at all like him when it comes to violence – that he should have said yes when she'd offered to shoot Andrews and his boys.

Peg only gives a triumphant smirk in return.

…

"How are we to know if we're even going the right way? I can scarcely tell up from down out here." Jo stares up at the sky as the sun sets and the stars begin fading into existence.

"Can't ye tell us?" Alex asks Emily softly. "Ye've got me dad's compass, what's it tellin ye?"

She's been trying to avoid this. With a sigh and some frustration, she takes the thing out from where it's strapped to her belt and opens it slowly, already expecting that'll it'll probably be spinning again, torn between the same three things. Except it isn't. It's pointing next to her – to Alex. Slamming it shut again, she stares out to sea as Jo is, a blush creeping up to color her cheeks as she can feel him eyeing her. "It doesn't seem to be working anymore. Maybe it won't considering where we're headed." She lies. "Suppose that's fine though. We're trying to find what no one's supposed to be able to, right? If we go by the usual logic, being lost should put us right where we need to be."

"Broken compass." Alex murmurs, his eyes still on her, and she knows he doesn't believe her.

"I'm not sure 'logic' is the right word to put to it, but you have a point." Jo concedes.

Emily glances at Alex. "Let's hope I do." And she retreats below decks.

…

"Honestly. Sometimes even I wonder how you can be a member of the gentle sex." Jo scolds her for flirting with the Navy boy – apparently Alex had said something. "I keep wondering if there are any rules you won't break…"

"Pirate." Emily points out crossly. "And don't act as if I'm the only one breaking rules, just look at you!" She gestures to – well, Jo. The older woman has, somewhere along the line, given up and acquired a new outfit, now wearing trousers, shirt and simple vest instead of a dress. Unlike Emily's, her outfit is more about not standing out – the shirt and vest seem to be oversized by design and the trousers have room to them too, helping to hide Jo's curvier and very feminine frame a bit.

Jo looks a touch sheepish, but scowls. "You're a terrible influence. My mother, may she rest in peace, she'd be rolling over in her grave to see me now."

"Staying on my ship was _your _idea, I denounce any responsibility involving you," she gestures to Jo again playfully, "being you're degenerate, trousers wearing self. Besides, you'll be glad of them at some point or other, the trousers I mean. I guarantee it."

Jo glares – and then giggles to spite herself, rolling her eyes.

"You've never mentioned your mother before." Emily points out softly after a moment.

Jo is staring out at the water surrounding them now and doesn't respond for long enough that Emily almost regrets saying anything. "She was from Spain, I think, with her accent and my complexion, but we never talked about it. But we lived in England, until she died. My father would stay with us on occasion. He used to be in the Navy; that's what she always told me, until I was old enough to notice different. She never seemed to mind him coming and going. I always thought that odd, but I suppose he took care of us somehow, because we certainly never starved. She passed on when I was fourteen."

Emily mulls this over a moment. "It's odd, isn't it? How much we seem to have in common. You, Alex, and I anyway."

"Our goddess again, fixing things in her own way." Jo turns to look at her now. "Making a family out of those who never quite knew the meaning of the word. That's what you're making us, you know, this whole ship. Some sort of strange family."

"Me?" Emily asks, bemused.

"You. You're really rather hard to figure out, so busy looking out for everyone else sometimes that you're as attractive to trouble as Alex is, but I have to admit it's serving you well enough. You're making real friends, quite a lot of them, and you don't even notice, which is the most amusing part of it."

Emily doesn't know how to respond to this, so she doesn't, and all is silent for a long moment. "You're mother. What was she like?" It's simple curiosity that prompts her to ask. She's not sure if her mother, barely there in the beginning and then crazy as she had gone, was ever really a _mother. _She wonders what a real, proper mother might've been like.

Jo looks away again. "Prettier than I." Jo says with a sigh that is almost wistful. "But I got my own attitude from her, and that serves me far better considering where I've ended up. My father says that was what he loved most of my mother anyway. She was endless patient, though. And gentle."

"Were they? In love? No, I'm sorry, that was an odd question. My papa wasn't wrong when he said my tongue would get me into trouble someday."

Jo smiles faintly. "Sisters, right? Sisters shouldn't have to hold their tongues with each other. Yes, my parents loved each other. It – wasn't as whole or perfect as one might dream of, but it I think it really was love. Anyway, if it wasn't, I don't see why my father would have kept coming around every so often, or why mother would have waited for him to. And it was alright the way it was, at least it seemed so to me."

The idea that love can still be love, even being a little broken and imperfect, has never occurred to Emily. Is it possible, then, that her papa hadn't been lying when he said he still loved her mother? She doesn't bother trying to sleep that night; instead she stays up, stares at the stars reflected on the water like glass, ponders what Jo had described, thinks of Alex, and starts to wonder…

…

"Cap'n!" The exclamation comes from the cabin boy. He's in the crow's nest to begin with, but before Emily can even respond he's scrambling down the rigging and nearly falling in his haste. "Cap'n, there's – we-we're going to – there'll be nothing left of us!"

"Timmy, what on earth are you…"

"Just – just look, Cap'n!" He points with a trembling hand.

Emily darts over to the railing, Jo joining her along with several others. "Oh." Is all Emily can seem to get out. She's pretty sure she'd been told about this part by someone at some point but it hadn't actually… she hadn't quite realized…

"Cap'n?" Jo asks nervously as Alex starts shouting preemptive orders for the ship to be turned around.

Her goddess whispers, soft but firm, and an unnatural calm takes over Emily. "What did I tell you? Get good and lost and here we are." She mutters to Jo before turning with a scowl. "Belay that! Sparrow, no one ever gave you permission to give orders on my ship! It won't matter anyway, the pulls too strong."

"Ye won't have a ship left to give orders on if we don't do somethin, _Captain_!" He retorts, sounding more his usual self, and it's comforting in a way. Somehow she can believe everything will be fine as long as some thing's stay just the same; Alex being Alex is one of those things.

"We've got this far, I trust my goddess. There's nothing to do but brace ourselves. Someone go down and let Andrews and his boys out, if we make it out of this I'll still need them alive! Let's hope they can swim."

"If!" Alex throws up his hands. "If we make it! Bloody 'ell."

But Emily's right, the pulls too strong, it's over before they really have time to do a thing about it anyway. The ship tips forward and then is swallowed up by the waters of the massive, treacherous waterfall. Emily, along with Jo and just about everyone else, jumps ship just before it does, and after that it's all very much a blur of falling, falling, falling and then water, everywhere, the weight of it pressing down on her. Emily claws desperately in the direction she hopes is up, holding her breath and hoping her lungs won't burst before she gets there…

* * *

><p>The <em>Queen<em> is…gone. Just, gone. Bits and pieces of driftwood float lazily by as Alex sits on the beach and watches with a sick feeling in his stomach.

The crew drag themselves ashore, one by one. Jo doesn't take long to join him, gasping incoherently about trousers and how she's glad she'd given up on her dresses, ringing out her long black curls. Andrews and his two midshipmen make it ashore as well – Andrews without the wig he'd been clinging to, which would be amusing in any other given situation. Alex counts, knowing well the number of men who'd been aboard the _Queen_, as Emily had told him, talked of them all with some fondness for their loyalty. There are four that don't immediately resurface.

Emily is among them. The ships been obliterated and their smart, fiery little fearless leader is missing in action. _Oh Emily, what have you done?_

"Alex?" Jo asks, a hand placed hesitantly on his shoulder. "Alex. I don't see…" She trails off, and squeezes his shoulder a bit. "Do you – do you have any idea what comes next then? Only I don't think we should linger here. This place…it doesn't feel right. My goddess still won't talk to me, though."

He gives a minute shake of his head, the most he can seem to make his muscles move. "We wait."

"In any other situation…" Jo sighs. "She'd remind us we're _all _pirates. In any other situation she'd want us to keep to the Code."

"But this isn't… No. We wait."

There is a pause, and then she sits down next to him in the sand. "Aye then." She replies softly. "Not much else to be done, I suppose. We wait."

The sun is too bright and shines down on them harshly, but the air is dry and chilly. The sand beneath them doesn't feel right either; it's too rough against the skin. Jo hugs her knees to her chest next to him, and he's a little startled to see her looking small and vulnerable; he's used to her having this quiet strength about her, as if she's just as ready to take on the world as Emily is, but here in this strange, forsaken place she looks frightened and uncertain and… he wraps an arm around her, pulling her close in a brotherly fashion. She leans in to him and they stay that way for who knows how long, just staring at the pieces of their beloved little ship as they float by.

…

He almost misses it. It's the strangest sight, because it looks for all the world like an oddly shaped rock that's just kind of floating along, hovering perhaps an inch or so above the sand. His brows furrow as he watches it… is he going mad? Maybe. The idea of Emily being quite, well, gone would be enough to do that to him, he's sure. But no, wait, Emily, she'd said… at the Fountain, something about a crab. And his father, telling a story and trailing off to mutter, something about being in the Locker…

Calypso.

He pulls away from Jo and gets to his feet and goes after the rock (or crab or whatever) a few steps and notices it's not the only one. There are several more emerging from the sand and beginning to trek towards a hill in the distance.

"What is it?" Jo asks.

"Dunno. I think… well, I'm gonna find out. Got nothin to lose now, anyway."

Jo stands and glances at the rest of the men scattered about the beach, grimacing, before she comes up next to him, and silently they get moving.

* * *

><p>She's so long under water that she's almost certain she should be dead already. She feels the need for air, but not as desperately as she should. She keeps clawing her way upwards, and at least she really thinks it's upwards, because she swears that's where the light is coming from, but the water is so murky that she can't really see. But she can't give up. She knows this with a certainty. She can't give up.<p>

When she finally breaks the surface, it takes her several moments to even realize that something's still quite wrong; she's far too busy gasping for air and just being happy that she obviously hasn't drowned. Swimming at a sluggish pace towards land, she drags herself ashore and for a moment just lays in the sun – too bright, though the air here is strangely cold, but at least she can feel that – on sand that is too rough against her skin, but there's no room in her mind to be worried about any of that. For one thing, there should be her ship, or whatever's left of it, but there isn't, the water is unnaturally clear and undisturbed. And for another, where is everyone? If she made it, surely she can't be the only one? And wait a moment, the waterfall – there isn't one.

Her affects were lost somewhere along the line. Before she has time to despair the loss of the finely crafted, well balanced blade her father had made special for her before leaving, though, she turns around only to find it sitting in the sand behind her, belt, sheath and all. _Oh, yes, great. Lot of good it'll do me._ She thinks, feeling quite hopeless.

Staggering to her feet and running a hand through her tangled brown curls, she directs, instinctively, the question of where exactly she is to her goddess… and gets no immediate response, of course. She almost wants to cry for all that she feels so frustrated, and indeed she could, as there is no one here to see her. She's just about to give in at that thought when something else catches her attention, crawling up slowly out of the water and heading determinedly right past her; a little grey rock. No, not a rock, a crab. Turning with brows furrowed, she watches as several more of them crawl up out of the sand and begin following the first one, leading further inland.

Perhaps her goddess is listening, then. Taking a breath, Emily retrieves her sword and begins to follow her strange little guides.

…

She's just beginning to worry that she's being silly, following the little things, when she notices what's happening just a few paces away now. The sand had long since given way to a flat, gray, rocky nothingness in any direction but the one she'd just come from; she is traipsing through a desolate wasteland, but the crabs are doing something strange now. Piling atop each other, crawling one over the other and then up through the air as though there is something their crawling on, but there isn't. There's just nothing.

"Oh good." She mutters as she continues moving forward. "Am I going mad or what?"

She pauses just a few paces away from whatever's happening, feeling, for the first time in ages, her goddess' presence. Calypso is scolding her silently, and Emily huffs. "Well, what _is _it then?" Her goddess expresses an odd combination of annoyance and fondness at Emily's attitude, but before Emily can say or do anything else the crabs begin to fall away, bit by bit, crawling back past her, back to the water perhaps. Emily doesn't care about them any longer; she's much more preoccupied with the small cottage that's now standing before her. The small, _very familiar _cottage that definitely was not there before and that she has no idea how it _can _be here now.

It's the quaint little hut that she had called home for the first fifteen or so years of her life. And her goddess is nudging her quite firmly towards it.

* * *

><p>The sand soon gives way to a flat, abysmal, rocky nothingness in any given direction. Alex and Jo promptly find themselves traipsing through a desolate wasteland.<p>

"Guess this is probably nothin." He admits after some time, even as they continue to follow the odd little troop of creatures serving as their guide.

"It's better than sitting on that beach _waiting _for nothing."

"Ye really aren't gettin anythin from that goddess you and Emily talk so much about?"

"No. I'm sorry, there's just…" She trails off, eyes widening as she comes to a halt. "Well."

Alex stops too and looks where she is – and imagines his own eyes are going quite buggy as well. The crabs are doing something rather strange now, forming a pile, climbing up one on top of the other and then further, right up thin air as though there's something there, though there clearly isn't. As if that weren't enough, the odd little creatures seem to be multiplying rapidly; there must be thousands of them now, and whatever they're crawling over, it's quite large.

"Well, you brought us here, what _is _it then?" Jo's grumbling aloud, rather irritably, and Alex casts her a look, perplexed. She scowls. "My goddess does pick the most _opportune _moments…" She trails off, obviously being sarcastic, before throwing her hands up and stalking off towards…whatever it is the crabs are doing. "Yes, my goddess. Come on then, Alex."

Knowing far better by now than to try arguing with a woman when her mood turns sour – and especially upon the occasion that she's acting crazier than some tend to think he is –, he just follows.

* * *

><p>Emily opens the door slow and cautious, having no clue what she'll find behind it, but there proves to be nothing out of the ordinary about the cottage itself. There's her father's work area, a fire blazing, his hammer laid out over the anvil as though he'll be back any moment to continue working on something. And there, in a farther corner, the area that serves as a kitchen with its small stove and that one little window where Emily could look out… except she can't see anything out of it now, just – gray.<p>

"Papa?" She calls quietly, stepping further into the room. He must be in the back room that held their beds. Slow and tentative, she begins making her way towards it. "Papa?" A little louder this time.

She is just a few very short paces away from the door when he appears in it, brows furrowed over eyes so much like her own, obviously bemused. "Emily?" He comes forward a few steps, reaching out as though to touch her cheek, but drops his hand at the last minute. "Odd."

"Papa –"

"I suppose you're going to yell at me too. It would be fitting. To see this you just when I'd given up that last hope."

It clicks almost instantly. Had he been aware? Had her visit, perhaps, made him aware? Aware of time passing, all those months it had taken her to pull all this together? And now he thinks her a mirage of some sort, another creation of his own mind come to mock him further. "No. No, I'm not here to yell at you." She says quietly. Darting forward on impulse, she takes his hand in her own and brings it to her cheek for him. "I'm here. Papa, it's me and I'm here and we are leaving this cursed place." She says it with a certainty she shouldn't feel but does.

Something stirs, behind his eyes… he looks even more confused. "No. I told my daughter no, she wouldn't have…"

Dropping his hand and stepping back as a thought strikes her, she holds out her hands. "Look at me. My goddess sent me here, you remember, but that was some time ago. _Look at me_. How would you have known what I look like now, papa?"

Startled, he does look her over. His eyes, still quite bewildered, dart over her form before landing on her leg and getting quite stuck there, his eyes widening. "Emily?" He stutters, apparently horrified, but that something behind his eyes is more than just a stirring now. Suddenly he looks angry, and Emily can't feel anything but relief. Anger means, by some gracious miracle, he's not lost to her, not in full. "Emily Turner! I told you not to – why must you be so damned stubborn! You're here. No! What – how…"

Something pulls Emily's eyes downward, a tapping at her foot it feels like, and there's another one of those little crabs. It's quite undeniably trying to point her out of the cottage, seeming quite urgent.

"Papa, I don't think there's time. We need to leave. Now." And before he can say anything else she's grabbing his wrist and dragging him out the door with her with an ease that should be worrying she thinks, but there isn't time to dwell, she can feel it now, her goddess seems to think lingering in this place is not a good idea.

They stumble back out into the flat, rocky nothingness and her papa comes to a halt, squinting into the brightness of it, before turning back incredulously to stare at the cottage. "Oh."

"Papa, come, please, we must get moving."

He nods slowly, tearing his eyes back to her. "How did you get here? Did you have a ship? There was nothing left of ours when… how are we to get out of here?"

"I don't know!" She bursts. "I just… My goddess got me this far, I expect…" There's another line of crabs, leading her across the vast expanse of complete nothingness. "Just come on." She pulls him along as she follows them.

* * *

><p>It's the <em>Sea's Queen, <em>Alex realizes. Or, at least, it sort of is. The ship that is slowly being revealed as the crabs fall away from it, bit by bit, is quite a bit larger than their beloved little sloop. So much larger and so very, very different because of it, in fact, that the only way they know it is the _Queen _is the letters on the side of the ship, painted boldly in gold. The ship that now sits idly before them is a galleon the size of his father's precious _Pearl_. Big enough to be much more formidable with the right person at the helm. She has a pretty little figurehead now, a woman wearing a crown and appearing to hold a sword. She's beautiful, Alex thinks, as Jo mutters something to the same affect next to him, and then his feet are moving seemingly of their own accord. He jogs up to the large, beached vessel with wide eyes and reaches out a hand slowly to lay it on the hull, half afraid that it's going to vanish right before his eyes as easily as it had appeared.

"My goddess." Jo says. "It's – it's real. Is this really the ship? _Our _ship?"

Alex nods, slowly turning to look at her. "Guess yer goddess is still on our side after all, eh? Thing is – 'ow do we get anywhere with it?"

Jo doesn't answer, wandering a few paces way before grabbing onto a rope that's hanging down from somewhere on the _Queen's _deck. Staring upwards for a moment, she mutters something about trousers again, and then starts to climb.

…

Jo's half hanging from the rigging, staring down at something below them, but Alex is still just trying to get over the fact that he's standing on the _Queen_. Everything is just as it had been before they'd gone over the edge of the waterfall; there's not a barrel or coil of rope or cannon out place. Except it's all multiplied to fit the much bigger layout. He'd even stumbled down to the captain's cabin only to find that it too was considerably larger – with a second tall cupboard identical to the one Emily already used and a cozy little seat below the much bigger window. It looks like a cabin befitting a gentlemen of fortune now. Well, gentlewoman anyway.

He runs a hand along the rail almost reverently as he strolls back up to Jo. "I 'ope we can find Emily. She'll love this."

Jo doesn't respond immediately. Confused, Alex peers over the side, looking where she is. It's the crabs again. They're everywhere, surrounding the ship, and it's almost as if…

Jo jumps down from the rigging and grabs onto the rail, clutching it with both hands. "Alex, I think you may want to hold onto something."

* * *

><p>"It's not much further."<p>

"How do you know that, Emily? There's nothing but – there's just nothing."

Her papa isn't scoffing at her; really, he doesn't sound anything but thoroughly bewildered. "I just know." She forces herself not to snap. "Look, there's sand, we must be getting close."

"But close to what?"

She doesn't answer, just keeps moving with determined strides even as the flat, gray nothingness starts to give way to coarse sand, and they'll soon be charging right up a hill of it.

"Emily." Her papa keeps saying her name. He won't let go of her hand, either, almost as if he's still trying to convince himself she's real. He comes to an abrupt halt just as they make it to the foot of the hill. "Do you feel that?"

The question is strange enough to have her stopping as well. She turns to him and they exchange a brief and possibly quite identical look before she catches sight of something behind him and just stares. He turns as well, and his eyes widen as Emily pulls them aside. It's a ship. A very large ship – well, large in comparison to her little _Queen _anyway – being propelled forward by waves of… oh, well, it would be those little gray crabs again.

"Ship?" Her papa mutters, and it sounds like a question.

"Ship." She confirms, no less bewildered then him now. The vessel sails right by them and over the hill, and Emily's eyes widen as a delirious smile tugs at her lips when she sees the gold lettering on the side. "MY ship! Ha!" She begins jogging after it, tugging her papa along again.

"_Your _ship? You have a ship?"

"Aye, my ship. How did you think I got here?"

"You were on _Anamaria's _ship, and it was not this large."

"Well, now it's my ship. And it is. Apparently." They come over the hill, and Emily pauses to just stare as the ship slides easily into the water, and _there_'s that blasted waterfall in the distance. And her crew. And a wigless Andrews with his two boys, oh that's funny. "Brilliant! Oh, thank my goddess, we're getting out of here!"

"Goddess?" Her papa asks blankly, but she's already tugging him forward again and shouting at her crew, urging them on towards the water and the ship that's already beginning to float away.

…

It's Alex that helps her up onto the ship, and in all her excitement she easily forgets herself, throwing her arms around him and planting a kiss right on his lips. "The _Queen, _she's beautiful, this is brilliant! How did…"

"Ye're guess is as good as mine, dearie, it just kind of 'appened. Brilliant indeed!"

Jo comes up with Emily's coat, placing it over the younger woman's soaked and shivering shoulders. "Wonderful as it is, we still need to get out of here, Cap'n." She reminds, as usual the closest to being a voice of reason.

"Right, of course." Emily sobers, letting go of her lover and affecting a more commanding tone. "Launch the boats, get the rest of the crew aboard. We'll really need every one of them now to keep up the ship, won't we? Well, to do it smoothly anyway. I want Andrews and the other two brought on first, I know there's nowhere else for them to go, but I don't trust them for a moment all the same so…"

"…keep a sharp eye on 'em anyway, aye Cap'n." He finishes for her and goes off to enlist the help of the few other men that had swam out with Emily and her papa.

"Papa." She turns to him. Has he been staring at her this whole time? It looks like he might well have been, and for a moment they stand there like that, just staring at each other. She wants to shoot forward and throw her arms around him and cry like she is a little girl again – and before she can make up her mind to do so, he's already come forward to wrap his arms around her. She returns the hug and they stand there like that for a few long moments, until she finally pulls away. "I know there's so much to…but we have to get out of here. I have to get my crew home first."

He nods slowly, tearing his eyes away from her, inspecting the ship around him. "I haven't forgotten how this goes. I could never forget..."

"You've been here so long." She says a little more gently. "Papa, you should rest, or…or…"

He runs a hand along the rail. "Let me help. I think…it'll feel more real if I can be of use." He looks back to her again. "You really are the Captain."

"This really is my ship." She affirms with a much weaker smile. "And you'll never believe all that I went through in getting it and making it _mine_, just so I could make it all the way here. But I don't promise unless I intend to keep it."

He mirrors the smile, and dare she hope that's pride she sees in his eyes now? "Right then, Captain Turner. Get me out of this God-forsaken place, will you?"

"That was the idea." She clears her throat and tosses her coat aside. "Jo! Come help us start on these sails! I've a feeling this'll take just a bit longer than it used to."

Jo joins her in staring up at the three full masts the _Queen _is now sporting. "Aye, perhaps a bit."

* * *

><p><em><strong>I actually read up a little. I'd only given the <strong>_**Sea's Queen **_**a single mast, which, as I understand it, would make it a very small ship indeed. The kind of ship I've turned her into, a galleon, has three – sometimes four – masts. So the **_**Queen **_**now has three, and is designed something a bit more like the **_**Black Pearl**_** (because, as I understand it all, the **_**Pearl **_**is likely a galleon), but its painted up more like a naval vessel – a bit of mischief on my part, that'll come into play later. Again, this is just as I understand it, if I get something wrong and someone just happens to be cool enough to actually know all about this stuff, please forgive me.**_

_**Next time we'll see them make it back to the land of the living, and then a whole lot of (long awaited, I'm sure) dialogue between father and daughter, and believe me, it will be interesting. Also, next chapter is number 50. And I'm not even sure how many more chapters I'll need to be done with this monster of a fic. I have a plot now though! A proper one! That's a huge improvement from the beginning anyway.**_

_**Ok, done rambling now. Thanks for reading. :)**_


	50. Home Again

Somewhere between getting everyone on board, making sure Andrews and his boys are once again good and locked up, getting the now huge(ish) _Queen_ ready to sail again, and making sure her father is something-sort-of-vaguely-resembling alright, night falls. Emily doesn't want to admit how exhausted she is; sleep doesn't come easy to her under normal circumstances, much less in this strange place. But Jo tells her she looks like a dead woman walking, and Alex practically drags her back to their cabin, and it's funny how even being the captain she doesn't seem to have much say in things sometimes.

She wants desperately for Alex to stay with her as he normally would, but knows that would be a risk with her father on board. Alex offers to stay with her anyway, angrily stating that Will Turner had given up whatever say he'd had in who put their hands on her, but Emily allows saner heads to prevail and tells him to leave. She needs to have a proper conversation with her father before they start worrying about all that.

It takes a long while, but eventually, she falls asleep…

"…cap'n. Cap'n!"

…only to be awoken long before the sun starts to rise again. The crewmen on the other side of her cabin door sounds worried but not panicked. "Aye, aye, I'm coming!" Emily snaps as he continues trying to wake her. She'd told Jo that if she was going to be made to go down and get some rest, she better not be woken unless something was on fire, and since she doesn't smell any smoke…

She forgets to be annoyed the moment she steps up on deck an sees _why _someone had come for her. This part definitely hadn't been mentioned in anything her papa told her. Striding slowly across the deck to stand next to her papa, she stares out at all the small boats drifting past the _Queen_, most carrying but a single passenger equipped only with a lantern. Her men are coming up on deck as well, murmuring nervously amongst themselves. Emily glances at her papa. "They're no threat. Are they?"

Her papa shakes his head. "As I understand it, this was meant to be your mother's job. Providing the souls safe passage across." Whatever he's feeling, if anything, it's carefully hidden, and Emily doesn't feel like trying to figure it out. He goes on quietly. "There's nothing we can do for them even if we wanted." He walks off, slipping past the men around and back below decks.

Jo takes is place moments later, looking – panicked? No, that's not quite the right word, but she is worked up about something. Clutching the rail so hard her knuckles turn white, her eyes sweep across all the souls sailing by… before hardening as they finally settle on one soul in particular. Emily follows her gaze uncertainly; there's a man coming up just alongside the queen. Not a particularly large or intimidating man from what Emily can tell, but he had been a handsome one in the polished way of a gentleman, with white wig, plumed hat and all. "He was a Company man." She points out, recognizing the dark red-embellished uniform. "Did you know him?"

"He's…" Jo cuts herself off, clearing her throat. "He was my husband."

"Your husband?" Emily's eyes widen as she looks at Jo. Jo had spoken of her husband before, but only once or twice, and she had made it seem that the man was already dead.

"Aye." Jo replies a little more forcefully, standing a little taller. "And good riddance to him." She raises her voice as though hoping he'll hear. "I hope he rots in Hell."

"Jo!" Emily replies, startled, but before she can ask for any kind of explanation, Jo spins on her heel and disappears just as Emily's papa had moments earlier.

"Well." Alex says from the position he's taken up on the other side of her. "And I thought you were full of surprises."

…

Next comes heat – stifling and humid, boiling as it had been freezing in the beginning. Emily tries to make sense of the map and use what she's learned of the stars as a guide, but the truth is with nothing but water around for miles in any direction, she can't well be sure of anything anymore.

"Up is down." Jo murmurs, swiping back a lock of her dark curls, damp with sweat, as she looks the map over herself. "Just how specific was your father with the stories he told you?"

"Not particularly when it came to this one." Emily admits. "But then I never had reason to ask." Jo raises and eyebrow as her tone becomes almost wistful. "I was more interested in all the big battles and my parents being in love."

"Not that I'd blame you for that, but it doesn't do us much good now."

Emily only shrugs, but before she can say anything, her father's gruff baritone reaches her ears as he comes up behind her. "Up is down."

"You know what it means." Emily turns to him, stating the probably obvious.

He nods. "As new and pretty as this ship is now," he glances around at all the new cannons, "you're not going to like it."

"The only part of this venture that I have liked was finding you." Emily points out, resigned. "I wasn't expecting much different."

"Maybe _your _goddess had another way of helping?"

She ignores the unspoken question behind the words 'your goddess'. There'll be time for explanations when they aren't dangerous low on consumable liquids. Actually, strike that, she thinks, taking out her father's flask (which she'd had filled with water). _Entirely out _of consumable liquids. Oh dear. "If she'd see fit to, now would be the time I think." She says with a grimace, half hoping her goddess is listening.

"William Turnah." A familiar voice intones, almost crooning, as the wind picks up. He freezes. Emily exchanges a shocked look with Jo as their goddess's presence grows considerably stronger. Before anything else can happen, a stream of water swirls up through thin air and then out to hover over the deck of the queen, corkscrewing upwards and then evaporating to reveal Calypso herself in the familiar form of Tia Dalma. The crewmen nearest stop and stare in bewilderment. "Back from de dead." Calypso goes on, unbothered, her gaze traveling over Will's form as though inspecting him, and then she turns to Emily and Jo, smiling. "I knew yeh could do it."

"Not without your help." Jo points out respectfully.

"You have our thanks, as always." Emily adds.

"Might I ask what I'm missing?" Will interjects softly, staring at the goddess warily.

"Much." Calypso replies. The wind picks up again. Clouds begin to roll in overhead, and the waters surrounding them start to become restless. Calypso's smile fades, her expression turning grim. "And I do not have de time to explain it myself. Yeh must be returned soon. But I would speak with my blessed ones first. Come." She leads them below decks, to Emily's cabin it seems.

Emily pauses to place a kiss on her papa's cheek. "I will explain everything soon, I swear."

He nods, though not looking particularly satisfied, and she slips below decks as well.

…

The goddess is staring out the window dominating the far wall of the captain's cabin when Emily walks into the room. The clouds are growing thicker and darker and the ship is beginning to be tossed about by choppier waters. There's a storm trying to brew, but Emily gets the feeling it isn't at her goddess' behest.

"My goddess…" Jo's the one to speak up.

"You forgive him. My fat'er. The sea. He worries I spent too much time as one of you." The goddess says softly. "I have made too many exceptions to de rules. It is only natural dat I should be punished." She turns around to address them properly again, draping herself over the seat below the window. If Emily didn't know any better, she'd say the goddess looked weary. "I know yeh have been wonderin whether I am angry wit you. I am not. But I am only allowed to interfere so much." Emily glances at Jo, but the older woman appears just as confused. Neither of them says anything. The goddess goes on. "I will bring yeh back to de land of de livin, but after dat I am afraid yeh are on yeh own for to de time bein."

"You mean," Emily asks tentatively, "no more visions either?"

"It has been decided yeh visions and de way I heal yeh are part of my blessin and up to me. Help beyond dat is not and has been forbidden. I am sorry, young one."

"But you haven't been sending me visions." Jo points out quietly.

"And I can't begin to understand the one you've been sending me." Emily adds, more forcefully.

Calypso shakes her head. "I _cannot _give yeh de answers. Yeh must find dem for yehselves, as I know yeh can." The wind rattles the window and a wave crops up to splatter against it, and she turns to stare out to sea again. "Know dat I will still be watchin, though, my precious girls."

Emily's eyes widen in worry at the growing chaos outside. "If there's a storm brewing, I'll have to tell the men to…"

"Dere is no need, young one." And before Emily can answer her goddess dissolves into a stream of water and slithers past, caressing Jo's shoulders and then Emily's, then slipping out of the cabin and up on deck. They follow quickly, watching as the stream dives back into the sea – and, rather abruptly, all is silent. The wind stops, the waters calm, the too bright sun shines again, just beginning to set. The men around stop what they'd been doing and look around with wide eyes, even more confused than when the goddess had shown up.

And then it happens. A massive wave, as though someone had decided to pour half the sea out right on the _Sea's Queen. _There's no time to do anything about it. Emily just has time to shout for everyone to hold onto something, and then it comes crashing down and for a moment that's all they know. The ship just stays their like that, resting comfortably on the bottom of the ocean. Emily watches as a fish swims by, unbothered by her as it goes on its merry way. Just when she thinks her lungs might burst, they shoot back up towards the surface. Emily is reminded of the _Flying Dutchman_ as water pours out of every crack and crevice on her ship, cannons and all. She thinks she catches a glimpse of green… but wait, the sun doesn't seem to be setting anymore. It's in the east now and getting higher in the sky.

She hopes, faintly, that they won't encounter any other ships for a while. Any powder they have for their guns will be soaked and useless at the moment.

"We're back." That's her papa, sounding in awe. She turns to him, and he's staring out to sea, appearing to take a deep breath.

"At last." Emily confirms, and she thinks she should be happy too. But with what her goddess had said… a sick feeling settles in her stomach as Calypso's presence fades again. She doesn't like this. Not at all.

* * *

><p>"Any chance we could have that talk…" Her papa breaks off, startled apparently. "…now." He finishes of, a little tense, eyeing Alex.<p>

Emily pushes Alex away firmly and tries not to seem as flustered as she now is. Her papa had been right there when she'd kissed Alex upon making it back on the ship. It wasn't as though she hadn't made it obvious they were more than friends; she'd just been careful with letting on how _much _more. "Of – of course." She offers a small smile. "Alex, why don't you take the helm? You know where we're headed."

They'd already found a small island with a fresh spring. Her father had shied away from replenishing their water supply there, but wouldn't give a reason why. Since there certainly hadn't seemed to be anything wrong with it, Emily had ordered as many barrels to be refilled as was possible. It still wasn't much but they were headed for Shipwreck now, so it would do until then.

"Aye, Cap'n." Alex replies easily before swaggering across the room, the look on his face just daring her papa to say something. He says nothing. Alex disappears and her papa closes the door.

"Is that really the boy you used to play with down by the docks?" Her papa asks as he makes his way across the room. Emily only nods. An almost scowl takes over her papa's face. "He reminds me of his father."

"He can be a lot like Uncle at times I suppose, but he's a good –"

"Good man. And you sound like your mother."

"He is, though."

"Is he…" Will trails off, the almost-scowl becoming a full one. "_What is _he to you?"

"He is…" Emily sighs as the only thing that comes to mind is what she'd told her brother. "Complicated. Increasingly so."

"You're not just friends, then."

"I'm not sure what to say we are. We're pirates, words like 'courting' wouldn't exactly fit, would they?" Except they'd be far beyond 'courting' even if the word could fit. How is she ever to explain that?

Her papa softens some. "No. I suppose not." He pauses, looking around her cabin a bit. "So all of this – a gift from _your _goddess?"

Emily lets out a breath and nods, glad of the subject change. "Ana's ship was destroyed by the waterfall. I'm not entirely sure where this one came from, but I'm beginning to see why Uncle's so attached to the _Black Pearl_. I could hardly imagine giving the _Queen _up before, but now…" She runs a hand along the wall before coming to the window seat, where she sits herself, curling up against the pillows in one corner. "I think I could live with being in love with a ship."

"Do you see him often? You're Uncle?" He comes over to sit on the other end of the seat.

"Often enough. At least every other time we make port at Tortuga."

There's the worried almost-scowl again. "You make port their often?"

"Papa." She says, tone warning. "It's the only free port in these waters and with the Admi-" She breaks off, not wanting to bring up her problems with the Company just yet. "We are pirates." She reminds him again instead. "Besides, at least there I won't be clapped in irons basically on the grounds that I'm a woman wearing trousers. Which has almost happened, by the way. Which isn't to say," she goes on more mischievously, "that I haven't spent a night in a cell. Just not for being a woman in trousers."

Now her papa's eyes widen. "You've – you've been arrested before?"

"Three times, actually."

There's the scowl again. "You sound almost proud of yourself."

"Proud I got myself clapped in irons and thrown in a cell, no. Proud I escaped all three times, perhaps just a little. Well, alright, proud of the first two times. The third was dumb luck and Joshy's help."

"Joshua?" Her father shoots back up to his feet now, running a hand through his hair and Emily feels mean for baiting him, but Peg's the one who has her smirking in rebellious satisfaction. He turns to her again as a thought seems to strike him. "Why was he with you?"

Any trace of amusement fades in an instant. "Papa, perhaps you should sit down again. You've been gone so long, a lot has happened."

He sits again. "She's gone, isn't she? Jade's gone."

It's so much worse than Jade just being 'gone' that Emily isn't sure she can bring herself to tell him the truth. "She's… she was still so sick. She was trying to take Joshy to England to see – her mother? Or her sister. I don't remember, someone she thought would look after him. But their ship… It was attacked."

He's staring down at his hands, which clench into fists. "Eliza-" He seems to joke on the name. "Your mother. She has Jade?"

"Yes." She decides not to explain about what else she knew about it thanks to her goddess' visions. She'd felt bad for her sort of step-mother; she could only imagine what her papa would feel knowing the details. "Yes, she has Jade. But Joshy's alright. Alive and well."

"But not with you anymore." Her papa points out, turning back to her.

"No. Not anymore." And there's yet another thing she doesn't know how to go about explaining. Telling him she'd left her brother behind because she wanted him to be safe would require her to explain why. Telling him she'd been worried about Joshy and what he'd try with Alex would also require further explanation – an explanation of her own selfishness, definitely not one she wants to give. "He's safe, though. At Shipwreck Cove with Alex's grandfather and the woman who works for him. A maid." She adds hastily. "Just a maid."

"But not before he apparently sprung his sister from jail." There's resignation and amusement in her papa's tone this time.

"Ah yes. Don't worry. I wasn't sure whether to be happy about that one either. You'd never believe how he pulled it off, too."

"Dare I ask?"

They spend the next few hours in Emily's cabin as she tells him that story, along with many others. He seems shocked by a few, but not angry, never angry with her. Mostly, he just seems amused. Resigned and amused. This should be a relief to her, and indeed it is on some level. But there's a part of her that wants him to worry and be angry.

She wants the assurance that he _cares enough_ to be worried and angry. She'd gone all the way to the end of the world to get him back, is it too much to ask, for once, for him to just act like her _father? _She can't quite decide what to do about it when he simply doesn't.

…

"Alex!" She exclaims that night when he comes in and refuses to leave, pulling her in for a kiss. "We _can't_." She giggles against his lips. "My papa…"

"Will be sleepin with the rest of the crew by now, darling." He begins trailing kisses along her jaw, nips at her ear, then kisses down her neck.

"You still…" She gasps softly as he reaches to untie her corset, his lips already brushing feather-light against the tops of her breasts. "…can't sleep here, Alex, if he sees – in the morning…" But she isn't really stopping him.

He undoes the corset with the efficiency of practice and tosses it aside. "So I won't sleep 'ere. I'll leave as soon as…" His hands trail down to cup her bottom, pulling her closer still.

She sighs, caught between exasperation and mounting pleasure as he continues his ministrations. "Goddess, you're going to be the end of both of us." But she's not really complaining, because he hasn't paid her such _full _attention since before their last visit to Tortuga.

She remembers something about a vision she'd had. About her father and Alex and swords clashing across the deck of her ship… but her dreams had been rum-hazed and fuzzy when she'd had it and any details she had remembered have faded. Figuring Alex has a point, they can work their way around the problem that is her papa, she gives up and begins responding to him in kind.

* * *

><p>To spite what Jack had thought at one time or other, Will Turner has never been stupid. Naïve, perhaps, but even that was long ago now. He sees the way his daughter looks at Alex Sparrow. And he sees how Alex Sparrow looks at his daughter. And he recognizes those looks, very clearly. He wonders if either of them has got the words out yet. He remembers how difficult it had seemed for him and Elizabeth, but that had been in a world far apart from this one. Out here, playing by an entirely different set of rules, there'd be nothing to hold his daughter and Alex back.<p>

If he is right… he doesn't know what he'll do. He sees a lot of Jack in Alex. He sees a young man who is very much a _pirate_ in Alex, and he does not, decidedly, like it, because he knows how a pirate thinks. Some rational part of him knows also that Emily is no better with all the tales she'd told him of her own mischief (and there had been an impressive amount of that considering; how much trouble could a girl of not even twenty manage, anyway?) But that's not the point. Emily is his _daughter_. And now that he's here he feels already a need to make up for what he hadn't given her before; to be her _father _in all the ways that actually count. But how can he? She'll never accept it if he does try, that becomes clear immediately. He already sees more of this stranger, this wild lady pirate captain, than he does Emily; he doesn't know his daughter anymore.

He'll give her space, he decides, plenty of it. She'd gone all the way to the end of the world just to bring him back; she doesn't hate him. He resolves to be content in that knowledge and simply leave things at that.

(But then he remembers how he'd caught Emily in Alex's arms and how the boy had given him a look that just dared him to do or say something about it and he thinks this might be much more difficult than he'd thought.)

* * *

><p>Joshy watches. He sits at the dock for hours on end with a patience that a just-about-ten-year-old shouldn't have and he waits and he watches, his sister's letter clutched in his hands. He knows she'll come back. She <em>has <em>to come back. She'd promised and she wouldn't leave him and he just has to _believe. _She'll be back.

He hasn't quite forgiven Emily for the way she had shouted at him. He certainly hasn't forgiven her for leaving him behind and for such a terrible, selfish reason too. But he thinks that maybe, just maybe, if she really does come back, he could forgive her. Maybe everything could be good again. He really hopes it could be. He misses his sister desperately.

So he sits. And he watches. And just when he begins to worry that something has happened, that maybe she really isn't coming, he wakes one morning. And looks out the window. And sees sails on the horizon. Fresh, white sails, too many of them to belong to the _Queen _in actuality, but that's alright. He has a feeling. Bolting out and right past the kind elderly woman who'd been taking care of him, he runs for the docks as fast as his legs will carry him. Sure enough, mere moments pass before the ship is close enough to see what colors its flying, the pirate flag with its proud skull and bones.

_Home _has just come back for him.

* * *

><p>"Emmy!"<p>

She barely makes it onto the dock before she is nearly barreled over by a wiry, auburn haired blur. Giggling softly, she wraps her arms around the boy now clinging tightly to her middle, bending down to press a kiss in his unkempt hair. "Always good to know I'm missed. You act as if you thought me dead." She pulls back to look at him, and his green eyes are wide and fretful. "I take it you got my letter then? I knew I shouldn't've sent it."

"That's alright. You're here!" Joshy replies, as if that somehow fixes everything.

"Apparently." She replies, amused.

"Joshua." The gasp is from her papa, and she can't quite seem to get used to it again, hearing his voice.

The waterfall, wandering through the Locker with nothing but a lot of small gray crabs for guidance, her new (and undeniably improved) ship, the visit from her goddess… it's all a long and surreal blur. She's found herself, over the last days, having to pause and just close her eyes at moments in an effort to make sure she's not just dreaming.

Emily casts a glance at her papa. "Remember, in my letter, I said something about a new guest aboard the _Queen_?" Joshy nods, also glancing at – well, the odd stranger in his eyes, Emily can tell.

Their papa comes forward, a little wary. "You don't remember…? Well, no, perhaps not. You were but five."

Brows furrowing in somewhat adorable bewilderment, Joshy stares first at Will, then Emily, then Will again. "I was five when our papa left. Did you know him? Emily says papa had lots of friends, but mummy wouldn't talk about it."

"I said in the letter, Joshy." Emily says quietly. "I said I was taking the _Queen _someplace dangerous. Someplace I might not make it back from. Remember the things your mother used to tell you? About papa and our Uncle and all their adventures?" Joshy nods. Glancing at her papa again, she plows on. "And I explained that they were true. The reason I was gone so long, the reason I sent the letter… Joshy, I was stealing our papa back."

It takes a moment, but Joshua Turner, young though he is, is not stupid any more than his papa. When his eyes settle on the stranger again, it's not a stranger he's seeing anymore. Realization dawns in those big green eyes. "Oh." He says quietly, continuing to stare up at his father. "I'm – I'm almost ten, you know."

"Yes." Their papa replies. "Believe me, son. I know."

Abruptly feeling uncomfortable, Emily decides whatever is about to happen does not actually need to include her. As her papa and her brother continue talking, she slips off to join Alex just as he makes his way off the ship, promptly dragging him to – anywhere that isn't where her strange, broken little family is.

She thinks, maybe, she feels a set of familiar green eyes burning into her back as she goes. She chooses to ignore it.

* * *

><p><em>Emily's on the beach this time. The scene isn't much different, she and her mother arguing over the heart.<em>

"_Mother. Mother, please. I don't want to fight you."_

"_I can't let you do this, Emily. I won't."_

_Her mother's hair is definitely moving this time, several slimy serpents writhing and hissing with the she-devil's mood._

"_Please, it would be so simple."_

"_Simple?" Her mother circles her like a hungry shark scenting blood in the water. "…just what is your plan then? Are you to replace me and give up the freedom you've grown so accustomed to? Or would you give up your Alex…"_

_Emily would never. Not Alex. Not with this – this thing she feels for him, the thing that has her heart feeling like it might burst out of her chest at the very thought of him. "…stop stalling mother. I need it. I don't want to fight you, but I will if I must…"_

_And there they are again, swords clashing, dancing across the beach as a storm rolls in and rain pours down in sheets. They pass right by the Chest, and a cold shiver runs down Emily's spine at the sight of it, the reminder of just what she's fighting. She doesn't have the key. She can't kill her mother even if she can get to the Chest. There's only one way this can end, and goddess, she's terrified. The wind and the rain pick up further, the sand turning to mud beneath them. Emily's leg is a distinct disadvantage here; she's not moving as well, and she knows it, and her mother is good with her blade and relentless. Before Emily knows it she's bleeding from cuts on her good leg, her stomach, her cheek. Her arm._

_Her arm. The one she's fighting with. Emily's stumbles back and lands in the sand as her sword goes flying. She scrambles backward as her mother continues to advance on her, pulling out her pistols, but it's no use. She'd taken an impromptu swim earlier; the powder in the pistols is as wet as she still is._

_She doesn't notice the long boat that just manages to make it to shore. Neither does her mother. They're so fixated on each other, they forget the world around them exists, and when a familiar figure darts forward and throws himself in front of Emily with a growled 'no!' just as her mother brings her sword up again and thrusts it forward…_

_Everything changes._

"_Alex." Emily stutters, staring down in horror at the boy now lying across her, another one of her father's swords sticking out of his shoulder. Wrapping her arms around him, forgetting her own injuries and ignoring her mother for the moment, she cradles him shakily. "Alex. No. No, no. Alex." She chants his name as he looks up at her, looking frightened but also, somehow, calm._

"_I love you." His mouth forms the words, though she can't hear him._

_Salty tears overflow freely, mixing with the rain already dripping down her cheeks. "Alex Sparrow. I love you too. Alex I should've told you before a thousand times over and I'm sorry and I'm saying it now so you can't leave me. You have to stay here and prove me wrong, prove –prove that it can end well. Alex, please. Alex. Alex!"_

"Alex!" She screams aloud, shooting up in bed, and this feeling – this is worse than when she sees herself die. She gasps for breath but can't seem to get enough air, her heart pounds in her chest – goddess, the thought of Alex being the one to die leaves a feeling so empty she knows she'd never be able to fill it if it really happened. She feels something warm slip slowly down her cheek and reaches up with one shaky hand to catch the single tear drop, bringing it back to stare at her wet fingers in surprise. Peg Leg Turner doesn't cry, can't remember the last time she'd allowed herself to. She wipes the tear away, annoyed at herself.

(But Emily just can't help it, and as she lies back down she curls up beneath the covers and sobs like the world is going to end because without Alex Sparrow hers just might.)

…

She doesn't really fall asleep again and gets up early the next morning so she can sneak through the halls to his room. She knows she shouldn't. Her brother had been given a room just down the hall from Alex's. If Joshy stirs and hears anything… there's no way that situation could end well. But she needs Alex. She needs the assurance that, for now at least, he's alive and well.

She knocks just loud enough that he should hear, and several moments pass before she hears movement. He shuffles across the room and opens the door looking adorably sleepy and disheveled and confused. She can't think of anything to say, so she just stares, and he starts to look worried. "Emily? What's the matter?" Shaking her head, she only steps forward and slips her arms around him, laying her head on his chest and listening to his steady heartbeat. He obliges her, wrapping his arms around her slender frame, placing a kiss atop her head as he runs a hand through her loose curls. "Visions again?" She nods, and he goes on. "Want to come in?"

She's too tired to be worried, and it feels so right to be in his arms she wouldn't have the will to protest anyway. Emily follows him inside and curls up in his bed with him and, safe his arms, is sound asleep in minutes.

* * *

><p><em><strong>From the standpoint of any actual mythology… I'm using very little of it here, obviously. Let me know if you want me to give a further explanation of that bit about Calypso.<strong>_

_**Also, don't hate me for the vision of Alex. I know what I'm doing, I promise. Thanks for reading. :)**_


	51. Of Rum and Close Calls

_She's too tired to be worried, and it feels so right to be in his arms she wouldn't have the will to protest anyway. Emily follows him inside and curls up in his bed with him and, safe and sound in his arms, is sound asleep in minutes._

* * *

><p>He goes to sleep cradling a sad, beautiful, haunted girl in his arms. He wakes a few hours later to a pirate who's a little too good at making out as though there's nothing wrong.<p>

"Morning." She chimes, sending a smile his way, but it doesn't quite reach her eyes. "I think I've just heard Joshy leave his room. Suppose I'd better scamper back to mine before someone notices I'm gone."

He eyes her for a moment, trying to find any traces of the sad, wide-eyed look she'd given him the night before, but he finds none. "S'ppose so." He replies finally.

She slips out of bed, leans over to plant a kiss on his lips. "That woman who's been taking care of Joshy – what was her name?"

"Mrs. White." He supplies.

"She said I was welcome to join Joshy and your grandfather for breakfast."

"She told me the same."

"I'll see you there, then, aye?"

He nods and she flashes him another little smile before slipping quietly out of the room. He stares at the door and thinks whatever her vision was about the night before, it had definitely involved him.

…

The feeling is mutual, apparently. This isn't at all surprising somehow.

The thing is, there really isn't a good reason for it, this automatic dislike of Will Turner. He'd met Emily's father maybe once when they were still little, and had barely spoken to him. All he knew about him was what Emily had said, and she'd always been careful not to be too disrespectful. And over all, Will was a better man than Alex's father; at least he'd been around for Emily, right? Or perhaps that's just it. He'd been around – but neglectful and not quite there for Emily, had allowed her to be taken away even. Something about that bothers Alex, seems even more unfair.

Whatever the reason, he just doesn't like the older man.

And as he sits across the table from him, it becomes inescapably clear that the feeling is very mutual.

The others seem to sense that there's tension of some kind; Emily certainly does, but studiously ignores it, making pleasant conversation with Mrs. White and Alex's grandfather. After a while, though, Teague excuses himself with a look both knowing and warning sent in Alex's direction, and Mrs. White enlists Joshy's help with the dishes they've just made. Alex, Emily, and Will are all left quite alone.

After several beats of tense and awkward silence, Emily scowls in that way that tends to send the _Queen's _crew scurrying far out of her way. "Alright. I'm not going to dance around the both of you, I've got better things to do. You either play nice or I'll take my ship and leave one or both of you behind. Probably both of you." Her father glances at her in obvious surprise, but says nothing. Alex opens his mouth but can't decide what to say, so stays silent as well. Emily glares, first at Alex, then at her father. "Well? Oh, alright, what then? Are you going to take out your swords and start banging away at each other? Honestly. I'm not worth all that, I wish you'd both quit while you're ahead."

Will turns his gaze on her sharply. "Not worth it?"

Alex's rolls his eyes, knowing full well Emily Turner's actual opinion of herself. The problem is, he's beginning to see what she sees in herself – when she starts to sound more like Peg than Emily. And as it happens, it's obviously Peg who's glaring daggers at him now. "I'd fight for less. I 'ave, in fact."

The fire that drives her abruptly dims considerably; her shoulders slump and she turns to stare at the table before her, running a hand through her hair and swearing under her breath. She's not angry at him for the comment itself. If she were she'd give him a good slap and be done with it. She looks more worried than angry.

Her papa's just got to his feet, though, and the look in his eyes is dangerously close to being murderous. Alex gets to his feet as well, slow and steady as he glares back at the older man.

"Is that all you think of her?" Will asks, the edge to his voice razor sharp.

"That's all she thinks of 'erself, is my understandin, not that I blame 'er, left be'ind like she was nothin she was, but ye'd know all about that, wouldn't you?" Alex replies almost flippantly.

"I was protecting her, what would you know about it?"

"I know _her _a fair deal better than you do, I'm the one that came back to 'er, ain' I?"

"You know her? Would you care to elaborate, I think I'd like to hear just how well you _know _my daughter."

And it's probably a very good thing Alex's grandfather doesn't allow weapons in certain areas of his home; he's pretty sure there would be a pistol aimed at his head if one were present. He's not sure what makes him say what he does next. It is a moment of stupid that far exceeds, certainly, any he's had so far. "I'll say this, mate, who she _knows _is more my business now than it 'as been _yours _in a long time."

Emily shoots to her feet, then, fists clenched, looking for all the world like she wants to hit one or both of them. And not a silly little slap either; she looks ready to throw a very unladylike punch. "You – you pigs! I don't recall making it anyone's business but my own!" She turns to Alex, her eyes hard. "And if you're going to be worried about who I _know, _allow me to remind you of pretty little Ruby, who was exceedingly lucky I didn't put a bullet in her pretty little skull!" She kicks the chair behind her out of her way as she says the last word and brushes past Alex as she stalks out of the room.

He watches her go, then turns back to her papa – but can't bring himself to say anything further. Shaking his head, he follows Emily's path out of the room.

* * *

><p>"Peg!"<p>

She forces herself not to freeze at the sound of Alex's voice, taking a breath as she keeps walking, not particularly caring whether he catches up with her. She's not too interested in talking about what happened at breakfast, but she's decided she's done with avoiding him simply because she's angry. If they're so busy doing that to each other every time one does something stupid, they'll never get anything else accomplished, and with the vision she'd had…

"You're just in time. I'm going to have a talk with Andrews if you'd like to come along. My goddess is being so cryptic, I'm hoping he can give me a better idea of what to do now."

"Andrews? Right, sure, but about…"

"Do you happen to have your pistol with you?" Emily interrupts him. "Not that I'm overly concerned, but it's best to be prepared I suppose."

"Aye, always 'ave my pistol, but Peg, this mornin…"

Finally she stops, turning to him calmly, forcing herself not to wince at the way 'Peg' rolls off his tongue, sounding ever foreign with his voice. "I don't want to talk about this morning, Alex. I'm sick of being angry with you. I'll yell at you some other time. Right now I just want to get some of those answers Andrews promised."

Alex sighs. "Fine then. Andrews. Who's to say he's actually goin to give ye anythin? He made it damn clear his opinion of ye."

"And I made it damn clear what'll happen to him if I don't need him anymore." She replies coldly, turning to start walking again. "If he's so close to the Admiral he should know all about how that works."

There's a long pause as the _Sea's Queen _in all her shining, new, white-sailed glory comes into view.

"Ye make it sound sometimes like – 'ave ye actually met 'im? The Admiral? Ye've never really said."

It's beginning to eat at her, keeping secrets and the lies that are a part of doing so. "Yes." She replies on impulse. "He was on the _Revenge _when I was captured all those years ago."

"Ye know, if ye'd told me that in the beginnin, would've explained so much."

Except it doesn't explain anything at all. She remembers the Admiral from an eight-year-olds point of view; tall and menacing, with light hair and eyes a piercing blue and a presence that was enough on its own to send a chill down her spine for how cold he was. And then she remembers him from their more recent encounter; not as towering tall, his hair just starting to grey, but those eyes still so piercing and cold. Except she'd refused to be afraid, and he'd made her pay for it.

"Emily." Alex again, softer, his hand resting on her shoulder.

Startled out of her reverie, she stares at him blankly. Had he just called her Emily? "What?"

"I asked what exactly ye 'ad planned for Andrews. Are ye alright?"

"Yes. Yes, fine. Uhm. I'm – I'm not sure, about Andrews I mean. I've never taken captives before, I'm making this up as I go along if I'm honest."

He brings a hand up to brush a strand of her dark curls out of her face, looking worried, but he only shakes his head and his hand drops. "Fair enough. I'll watch ye're back."

"As usual?" She presses a kiss to his cheek before turning to board the ship.

* * *

><p>Timothy Andrews knew full well he'd only have so much time to come up with a plan, but even so, he's caught a little off guard when Captain Turner decides to come and visit him this day. There'd been a lot of strange goings on over the past days – the wreck they'd all been lucky to survive, the new ship that had just sort of appeared – and now that they seemed to have made port again he'd expected it to be another few days before her mind settled on him. Perhaps it just figures that fate wouldn't be that kind to him.<p>

She gives the men who've been guarding him a temporary dismissal, leaving only Sparrow to guard the door. He would've called this a bold move on her part, but as she's quite armed and he's heard some tell of her prowess with the fine blade at her hip, perhaps she really has nothing to worry about. Just perhaps.

"Good afternoon, gents." She says pleasantly, strolling in and sending a particular smile in the direction of his youngest midshipman, Riley Connelly.

"Captain." Andrews replies a little sharply, trying to keep her focus on him. "What can I do for you?"

The smile fades as she raises her eyebrows in his direction, though she still looks a tad amused. "No need to sound so hostile. I was just thinking you could all probably use a breath of fresh air."

"And I'm to understand you'd be willing to take the chance at giving us some?"

"Well, why not? You don't actually know where we've made port and there's nothing but water around in any other direction. It'll be your funeral if you try escaping now."

"I don't think I'll be taking those chances, personally, sir." Connelly murmurs from the corner of the room he's occupying. His fellow midshipman, Peter Montgomery, sends a glare in his direction for it, but remains good and silent, as Andrews had instructed _both _of them to.

"He's smart, this one." Turner praises Connelly.

"And what would we have to exchange for these few moments of freedom, pray tell, Captain?" Andrews interjects.

"Nothing you haven't already promised to. I need to know just what the Admiral wants from me."

"I believe the letters made that clear enough."

Now her eyes narrow, just a fraction. "Don't play dumb with me, Andrews. I need to know what he really wants."

"What he _wants, _Captain, is simply to have you where he can keep an eye on you. You are a nuisance and little more, but he wants you out of the way all the same."

"Hmmm, I'm not buying it. See, I was only eight years old when he first showed any interest in me. Now, at the time, I thought it was just to get to my parents, but then why go through the trouble of taking me again if I wasn't a real threat to him? My father's dead. And my mother – well, we all know that story, assuming you believe in such things." She pauses at this, tilting her head, her gaze turning decidedly more calculating. "Do you believe in such things, Mr. Andrews?"

"I believe in what I can see with my own eyes." He replies easily.

She eyes him a moment longer before strolling past him and over to Connelly, sliding her back down the wall to sit next to him. "What about you, Riley?" Andrews winces at the familiarity. "I'm told there are some interesting stories going around about me. Do you believe them?"

"My men would know far better than to believe in every bit of superstitious nonsense they hear tell of." Andrews puts in quickly.

Connelly glances at him, a little uncertain, before turning back to Turner, seeming to study her a bit. "I have wondered." He admits quietly. "But having met you now it is rather difficult to believe so beautiful a woman could be the devil's daughter."

"Connelly." Andrews barks, scolding, not liking the look on the boy's face.

Turner smiles, mischievous. "Well, now. Give you just a few more years and you'll be quite the charmer, won't you, Mr. Connelly?"

"I only speak the truth." The boy shrugs, his cheeks going red.

"Ah, but it's _how _you speak the truth that makes all the difference, aye?"

"Captain Turner." Andrews says firmly, and perhaps just a bit louder than necessary. She turns to him with that look again, eyebrows raised, vague amusement hiding somewhere in her eyes. He closes his own as he goes on. "I may not believe in these old wives tales, but the Admiral does. He wants your mother, to control her I suppose, but he isn't foolish enough to believe he can do so through use of the heart, that's already been tried."

"And he thinks I can control her?"

"He thinks she will ultimately listen to you, yes."

"Then he is a fool."

"Then why are you keeping us?" He asks, growing furious. "If you've no interest in his plans, why not let us go?"

"Because I still believe you can be of use to me, of course." Her tone briefly becomes decidedly darker. "I'm sure I don't need to remind you of what I could very well do if I'm wrong." She stands, making her way back over to the door, abruptly pleasant again. "But if that's all you have to say for now, then so be it."

"Wait!" Connelly shoots to his feet, much to Andrews shock, jogging across the cabin as she freezes half out the door. "Captain… All the stories. Are they true?"

She seems to think on that a moment, smiling again. "Is a lady pirate with just one leg not interesting enough for you, my dear Riley? If not, you can come see me in my cabin. I promise to make sure these stories, whatever they be about, are the last thing on your mind." She adds a saucy wink and then is gone.

Andrews, eyes wide, turns to Connelly. "Can you believe the nerve of that wild woman? It seems 'pirate' has become a way simply of saying 'brazen hussy."

Connelly blushes furiously, but the look on his face is more curious than scandalized as he stares at the now closed door. "Indeed, sir." He replies faintly.

Andrews scoffs and resists the sudden urge to hit the boy upside the head.

* * *

><p>Alex is leaning on the wall across from the cabin, arms crossed as he attempts to appear casual, but his eyes always give him away, at least to her. She scoffs. "Oh, will you relax? I know what I'm doing."<p>

Rolling his eyes, Alex pushes off the wall to stay at her side as she makes her way back off the ship. "I'll tell ye what I certainly hope ye'll notbe doin, and that's anything involvin _Riley _and _our _cabin."

"I'll do whatever I think is necessary to get what I need, Alex, but don't worry. He's younger even then us, remember, I've already got him curious, and that's me barely trying. I doubt it'll come to what you're thinking."

"I'd like to know what you're thinking, if ye wouldn't mind terribly." Oh, the sarcasm.

Now it's Emily's turn to roll her eyes, turning to him. "Alex, sometimes I'd swear you'd make the worst bloody pirate in history. Andrews will break eventually I'm sure, but that might require certain methods I'm not ashamed to admit I don't think I have the stomach for. So I'm attempting to think more like Uncle."

"Oh, and that's meant to be comforting, is it?" He scowls. "Let's 'ear it then."

Tugging him off the ship in the off chance that their captives can hear them, Emily pulls him aside on the docks. "You're a Sparrow, Alex, think like one. I tug Riley over to our side – promise of riches or freedom or girls, the usual, as I said, I daresay I've already got him curious enough – and perhaps I even tell him all about," here she slumps her shoulders and lets out a convincing sob, wiping away nonexistent tears, "being taken when I was oh so young and locked away so cruelly."

"Playing the damsel?"

"Icing on the cake. Once he's good and won over…"

Realization dawns on Alex's face. "We send 'im scurryin back to Andrews and let 'im find out whatever it is ye need to know. That's diabolical, that is." The apprehension from earlier fades as he gives her his trouble grin. Goddess, the things that roguish grin does to her… "And now we know why ye're the captain, don't we, darling?"

Emily mirrors his look as she spins around and strolls away, hips swaying proudly. "As if there was ever a question."

* * *

><p>Several members of the <em>Queen's <em>crew gather at one of Shipwreck's few taverns that evening. Jo finds herself a quiet corner to settle into when both Emily and Alex find themselves drinks, not entirely minding if she has to be the responsible one. This does happen. She keeps an eye on both of them, but mainly Emily. Something had happened that morning, and Emily wouldn't tell her what, but Jo can just tell by now when the younger girl is in the mood to find the trouble that so often comes to her anyway. Her suspicions are soon confirmed. Emily is quite obviously a little drunk already when a man from another ship visiting Shipwreck takes notice and tries to get a little too close; she draws her sword but, to be fair, somehow manages to drop him without drawing blood.

Heaving a sigh, Jo downs the rest of the only drink she intends to have and settles herself in for a long night.

…

She's not too surprised when a curious Mr. Turner enters the tavern, nor is she surprised when his eyes land on Emily and Alex and harden a touch. She is, however, a bit surprised when he begins winding his way through the tavern to Jo.

"If you'll forgive me for being blunt, how long have you known my daughter?"

Jo shrugs, uncertain. "Well over a year now."

He nods, turning to watch his daughter. "Then you'd know if this was something she made a habit of."

Jo raises an eyebrow. "A habit of? Drinking in a tavern, halfway attempting to start some kind of brawl, or flirting shamelessly with Alex?"

He turns back to her, brows creased in worry. "You don't sound surprised by any of it?"

"Nothing about that girl surprises me anymore. She tends to work under the assumption that the only rules that apply are her own. Looking for trouble of any kind, though, that's nothing new for her at all."

One of his hands comes up to rest on the sword he'd somehow acquired as another man approaches Emily. "I don't suppose there'll be any pulling her away before she finds what she's looking for?"

Jo snorts as Emily draws her own sword and faces the other man down as she had the first. "She'd be likely to threaten you at sword point if you tried. Besides, after whatever it is that happened this morning, I'd be willing to bet a reaction of any kind is exactly what she wants from you. Best leave her be tonight. In truth, sir, she can handle herself."

He watches Emily a moment more, shakes his head, and leaves.

…

The tavern is growing considerably rowdier some time later and Jo is beginning to contemplate giving up and leaving herself. Alex appears to be better off than Emily, perhaps by design, if all else fails he'll drag her away eventually. Right now they are dancing to the lively tune that's been struck up, and appearing to quite enjoy themselves.

Jo is just about to get to her feet when someone grabs the mug in front of her, refilling it via a full bottle using a pair of big, tanned hands. A little startled, her hazel eyes dart upward – and meet a smiling pair of blue ones. Oh. The man standing next to her now is tall and really quite handsome, his chin shadowed with stubble and light brown hair falling freely to hang just above broad shoulders clad in white tunic and black leather vest.

He holds the mug back out to her, and she eyes it, trying to remember herself. "A bit forward, I know, but I could not in good conscious leave so beautiful a woman to sit here all by her lonesome."

Trying to appear as unamused as possible, she snatches the mug back. "I knew I should've cut my hair as well. With all these curls there's just no mistaking me."

"Ah, but what a travesty that would be, to do away with curls so full and fine." She blushes and covers it up by bringing her cup to her lips again, smiling into the rum. Apparently sensing that he's won a small victory, he gestures to the seat across form her. "May I?"

"I suppose." She concedes. At least he's trying to charm her.

He sits. "So why is the lady left alone on this fine night?"

"Too busy keeping an eye on a friend with a tendency to find trouble, I suppose."

"Ah. I apologize for distracting you, then."

"You're not." Jo replies, for some reason worried the handsome stranger might leave. "I mean, you are." She brings a hand up to play with the curls spilling over her shoulder, flustered. "But – it's a welcome distraction."

He treats her to a smile. "Good." He holds out his hand as if to shake hers. "Christoff De Lange."

"Jo Gibbs." She places her small hand in his much larger one tentatively, blushing again when he brings it to his lips to brush a feather light kiss over top of it.

* * *

><p>"Alex."<p>

"Aye?"

"Jo's with a man."

"This entire taverns full of 'em, dearie."

"No, I mean – she's smiling. Never seen her smile like that."

"Oh. Oi, I know 'im. S'Captain Christoff. Strange, that one, 'is dad's a friend of me granddad's, but I can never tell what business Christoff's in."

"She won't be needing rescuing, will she?"

"Nah, not from 'im. 'sides, Jo can 'andle 'erself well as you can, right?"

Emily only shrugs and steals back the bottle Alex has just taken a drink from.

* * *

><p>"Where's Emmy?" Joshy asks innocently, a piece of toast spread with jam half way to his mouth, his brows furrowed adorably.<p>

It's half past eight in the morning. Until now it's conveniently escaped everyone else's noticed that both Alex and Emily have yet to make an appearance. Teague exchanges a glance with Mrs. White, who then looks to Will, who seems a bit tense. They are all well aware of how full the one tavern had been the night before; it doesn't take a genius to figure out where the pair probably are. Fundamentally, there's nothing wrong with this, as they are young and free and had only been having a bit of fun. Joshy, though, still wants so badly to believe in his sister being _good –_ in his simple, though somewhat warped, nine-year-old definition – that no one quite has the heart to explain.

"Joshua, I believe I've left the cup with cream for the coffee in the kitchens, would you be a dear and fetch it for me?" Mrs. White asks pleasantly. Joshy eyes them all a little suspiciously, but since there really is no cream set out on the table, he shrugs and heads off obediently. As soon as he is out of sight, the elderly woman leans in a bit, speaking soft and hurried. "They never came in last night, sir, either of them. That's all I know."

Joshy comes back in before anything else can be said, carefully setting the small pitcher of cream onto the table before Mrs. White, who gives him a kind smile. "Thank you, dear."

"Papa, are you alright?" Joshy asks shyly, looking up at his father from across the table with his big green eyes – so much like his mother's.

Teague stands. "Forgive me, I've some things to attend to this morning, I'd forgotten. If you'll excuse me." Only Mrs. White notices the glint in his eyes and the vaguely urgent tone to his voice.

"Papa?" Joshy presses as Teague slips out of the room.

"Yes. Yes, son, I'm fine. Just – not feeling well I'm afraid. Please excuse me as well." And he too stands, making a beeline for the door.

Joshy looks to Mrs. White very calmly. "They're going to look for Alex and my sister, aren't they?"

"Going to wake them, is all." She replies, perhaps a little too hastily. "We know where they are, of course, dear, they've simply – slept late, as you young ones sometimes do."

Joshy nods, but decidedly isn't buying it. Not for a moment.

* * *

><p>Should she be worried that this feeling is growing a little more familiar? Well, the pounding headache, that is. Of course she's already quite familiar with waking in Alex's arms, although a little less so whilst being quite without clothing.<p>

…wait.

Forcing her eyes open, she takes in her surroundings. The two tall cupboards, her desk, the window allowing all that bloody bright sunlight in to the room. She's in her cabin on the _Sea's Queen_. Which wouldn't be at all a bother to her, except she can't quite remember how it is she got here, and (as she's already established) she isn't alone.

There's a knock at the door. Is that what woke her?

"Alex." That's Captain Teague's voice, and he sounds a bit urgent. "If you're in there boy, you'd best get yer arse up and moving."

Her eyes widen. "Alex!" She exclaims. "Alex wake up." She works herself out of his arms and the sheets tangled around them. "Alex, you stupid, lazy bilge rat," she half growls impulsively, "wake. Up!" There's another knock at the door. "Yes! Y-yes sir, we're – I mean I'm – I…" She tries to force her thoughts into some semblance of order.

"I'm well aware, Captain, I'm not the one you need worry about. It's only a matter of time before your father comes for you. The pair of you best come up with something right quick."

Alex is up by now, but only looks at her, vaguely horrified, before scrambling out of the bed, searching for his trousers and tossing Emily her clothes as he finds them.

"Where's my…"

"Got it." He hands her off her leg brace. "Erm, I seem to be missin…"

"Here." She hands him off his vest.

Footsteps sound across the deck above them, and then pound down the stairs. They hear Teague talking, something about having found 'the young captain' and mentioning her foul mood.

Eyes widening when she hears her father's gruff baritone respond, she shoves the rest of Alex's things into his arms. Remembering a feature her pretty new _Queen _now possesses, she scurries him over to the window and opens it, shoving him through and out onto the walk way beyond it, hissing for him to stay put and be quiet if he values his life. He rolls his eyes as if she's being dramatic, but she has no time to argue with him.

Goddess, her head. Hadn't she promised herself she wouldn't do this again?

Walking back across the room rather unsteadily, she runs a hand through her hair and takes a breath in a last ditch effort to compose herself some before opening the door. "Papa! What – what seems to be the problem?"

He attempts to peer into the room beyond her. She chances a glance back at the window, and with no sign of Alex, opens the door and lets her papa see. "You didn't come for breakfast. Mrs. White said you weren't in your room to her knowledge, we were worried."

"Worried, why-why would you be worried? There's no reason to worry, I don't- I don't always sleep very well with my visions, being on the ship calms me is all." She babbles, stumbling over her words some, blushing lightly.

Her papa looks a little startle by the outburst and exceedingly skeptical. "Alex isn't in his room either," he goes on, uncertain, "and I saw several members of your crew gather at a tavern last night."

"As they're free to. I was there for a short while but that's not, not really my… I'm, erm, not much for spirits, you remember." Alright, fine, lying at all convincingly simply isn't in the cards at the moment.

"I remember a little girl who is little like the young woman I'm talking to now, and I know a hangover when I see one, Emily Turner."

She's struck a bit speechless for a moment because damned if he doesn't suddenly sound very much a father. "Oh, and you would, wouldn't you?" Now she's angry on top of being still, maybe, just a little drunk, and why shouldn't be angry, after the way her papa had acted the previous morning? Eyes narrowed, she puts her hands on her hips and very firmly comes out with – "Well I swear to drunk I was not my goddess last night and I…" Now wait, that didn't quite come out right, did it? Judging by the amusement her father's obviously trying to hold back and Teague's open laughter from somewhere a short ways down the hallway, no, it didn't. Right. How much _did _she have to drink? "I mean… Well, Alex isn't here anyway, knowing him he probably found some little tart to keep him company for the night." She tries for some attitude. "He's as good for that as Uncle you know."

Her father heaves a sigh. "Yes, I can see you're quite alone. Your brother was asking for you."

"I'll be there soon."

She breathes a sigh of relief when the door shuts and she's afforded a blissful moment of silence, and she really doesn't like the way her stomach's beginning to churn. She'll have to ask Alex what that cure of his is, it would be a handy thing to know, awful as it tasted. "Alex, they're gone now."

He climbs back into the room. "Some little tart? Now that's not very nice, love, referrin to yerself in such a way."

She picks up an empty bottle rolling at her feet and throws it at his head, holding back her own laughter as he ducks and it sails right out the window with a distant splash.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Tried for a bit of simple humor in that last scene. I hope I succeeded, since half of this chapter was kind of just filler and fluff anyway. Again, I know, lots of OCs running around, but hey, at this point the stories mainly made of them, and my new captain is less a character than a plot device for later on…and it's my story, why am I explaining? <strong>_

_**Thanks for reading. :)**_


	52. Curiosity, Seduction, and Stowaways

Jo doesn't see Emily or Alex the next morning, and doesn't worry, no, not at all. Why would she be worried about the fact that they'd disappeared at the same time last night and the fact that she'd watched them just long enough to know they were heading towards the docks? They were clever, those two, they'd be fine, even with Emily's papa around. Right?

Alright, so she's very much so worried. She can't seem to help it. She got that from her mother, she's pretty sure. Anyway, it all leads up to her being relieved to the point of ridiculousness when she finally does see the pair, stealing a kiss down by the docks again, which isn't surprising. Emily can't seem to stay away with the _Queen _and all her new and pretty glory, and she did have that other captain to deal with still.

Unsurprisingly, Emily spots her and comes jogging up immediately.

"Well, Alex seems to be alive and well." Jo starts, eyeing the boy in question. "I'm assuming your papa has no idea what exactly you two were up to last night?"

Emily shrugs, blushing just a bit and covering it with a scowl. "I think he has plenty ideas, he just has no proof, and we have Alex's grandfather to thank for that if you can believe it. Anyway, I refuse to care after yesterday morning."

"You're furious at your papa, but you're acting as if Alex has done nothing at all. I'm really rather curious as to what _did _happen yesterday morning."

"Not as curious as I am about you now, I'll bet." Emily replies with a grin that is decidedly mischievous – and a little too wide, maybe, but is that just Jo's imagination?

Jo stares at her, blank. "Why would you be…"

"Oh, come now, as if I wouldn't notice that handsome blue-eyed rogue you had smiling at you all last night."

Now it's Jo's turn to blush; she can feel the heat, no doubt turning her cheeks a rosy red. "You were supposed to be rather preoccupied."

"Well, who was he?"

"He's a captain. He seemed to think I looked rather lonely last night, he was only being a gentlemen."

"Well did Mr. 'only being a gentlemen' have a name? Alex thought he'd seen him before, said he's known for being genuinely quite charming."

"His name's Christoff." Could the blush get any deeper? "And he is."

"And?"

"And what?" Jo scoffs.

Emily huffs, exasperated, as if Jo's going about it all wrong somehow. "Are you going to see him again?"

"Perhaps. I don't know."

"But you hope so." Emily says, as if she can just tell.

"Yes." Jo concedes. "Yes, I do hope so."

Emily's already long gone, heading back for the ship, when Jo realizes… she'd pointed something out. And Emily had avoided saying a thing about it, a little too smoothly.

She wonders what Emily had seen in her visions now and hopes it doesn't have anything to do with Alex.

* * *

><p>"Please Emmy!"<p>

"No."

"But…"

"No!"

"But Ipromisetobe…"

"Joshy! It's not up for discussion! You can't come along and that's that!"

"But WHY?"

Emily huffs, exasperated. He just won't give up. "Because it's still not safe, and because you need an education and Mrs. White has agreed to give you a basic one."

"I don't care about being educated! And I'd be safe enough if you gave me a sword!" The words spill out of his mouth, and then he looks surprised, as though he might be on to something. "Wouldn't I? You could teach me to use it better Emmy, no one's better with a sword than you are!"

"I care about you being educated, and for the love of my goddess, I am not putting a sword in the hands of a child, you're being ridiculous."

"But – but you've only just got our papa back and he's going with you and I want to know him and you can't just leave me behind again you just can't!" He stomps his foot, fists clenched, and that's a proper tantrum if ever she's seen one, isn't he getting a bit old for that yet?

"I know." She near shouts back. Their papa was, in fact, the one who pointed out that it might be best to leave Joshy out of things for the time being. But if Joshy will listen to anyone, it'll be his big sister. She takes a breath to calm herself before going on. "I know, but I promise we'll come visit again soon and papa will still be with us then, you'll have all the time you could possibly want with him."

Tears stream down his face as he stares up at her, but he doesn't say anything more, only shaking his head before spinning around and running, presumably just to get away from her.

* * *

><p>She starts off small. A gentleman, and particularly a naïve boy like Riley, would shy away from a woman pushing too hard; as with everything else, she must get this just right. So she flirts, but keeps her hands to herself. Offers to have him for dinner in her cabin, but doesn't look too disappointed when he declines. Waves off her men – even Alex – when allowing him out to walk with her. And she simply talks. Not like the women he would know. A boy like Riley isn't so much worried about all of that prim and proper nonsense, at least not yet, because that's all he's known, right? To keep his interest, she has to continue being <em>different.<em> Being the exact opposite of what he's been told a young woman should be. At least, he certainly seems to find that enticing enough.

Basically, she just has to be Peg without a trace of Emily, which is almost easier anyway because Emily wants to feel just a little guilty for being so conniving.

It takes a good week for him to show signs of giving in. Emily is growing restless, as are her men, and is preparing the _Queen _to set sail the day something finally gives. She's not sure what's changed. But something almost certainly has. That hint of mischief that's always swimming somewhere in his eyes is now unhindered; he's looking for trouble.

"Captain." He says that afternoon, just as the _Queen _finally gets underway again. He's nervous but trying to pretend confidence in a way that she actually finds rather cute.

"Yes, Mr. Connelly?" She asks, innocent, as if she doesn't suspect what's coming. He's insisted on being anything other than just 'Riley' since her last conversation with his captain. She suspects Andrews himself is behind this.

"I…" He stutters a bit and trails off, taking a breath. "I was wondering if the invitation to dinner in your cabin still held."

Her smile is two parts pleasant surprise, and one part serious flirtation. "Of course. In fact, I'd be delighted if you'd join me."

She informs Jo, has a table set up in her cabin just near the window with candles and wine, and slips into the same outfit she'd had on when having her first talk with Andrews.

Alex points out, annoyed and clearly jealous, how backward the whole scene is, her being the woman and trying to seduce Riley with wine and candles. She allows him to make his annoyance clear; lets him glare at Riley and send a passive threat his way. Perhaps it'll bring her whole act together, help Riley to believe it's real.

"Would it be too bold of me to ask for my sword back, Captain?" Riley asks as they enter her cabin, for a moment sounding very bold indeed. "Your friend doesn't seem particularly fond of me."

Emily thinks Alex Sparrow can beat her with a sword when they're only practicing an art; Riley would never stand a chance against an angry, jealous Alex in a duel. She only smiles though, soft and placating. "My men listen to me, Mr. Connelly. If Alex becomes a problem he will be thrown in my brig until he feels generous enough apologize for it."

Riley bows slightly, flustered. "Right. Yes, of course, Captain. I didn't mean to imply anything otherwise." Slipping around her, he pulls one of the chairs out for her. She pointedly pulls out the opposite chair for herself and sits. "And," he adds, stuttering a bit, but seating himself, "I think, I've decided, I like just Riley better."

"Mmm, good. I like it rather better as well. And you could try something other than captain for me, I suppose."

"Peg, isn't that what they call you? Peg Leg Turner."

"Friends have taken to calling me Peg, yes." She pauses just long enough to allow the question of whether he's now her friend to cross his mind. "But I suppose," she goes on, wistful, as though this is a bit of a privilege she's handing out, "you might call me Emily. It would be nice to hear." That's not a lie. The only one who calls her that now is her papa, and since she's still rather angry with him, they haven't spoken much. (And she does seem to always not be speaking with someone, doesn't she?) She pours some wine into the glass before him, then into her own, watching as he seems to hesitate before reaching for it. "A bit late for such mistrust now, isn't it? I swear on whatever honor I have left, I'm not going to poison you. There'd be little sense in it." To prove it, she takes a sip from her own glass.

He relaxes visibly and finally reaches for his glass, taking a large gulp of the red liquid within it. "Pirates are hardly known for being trustworthy Cap – Miss Emily. But I suppose you're right."

"Oh, but you'll find I make a point of keeping what promises I choose to make." She glances up to briefly meet his eyes before picking up her fork and beginning to eat.

"Good to know." He replies softly, and begins eating as well. Silence reigns for several moments until he reaches for his glass again, and she gets the sense he's trying to work up some courage. She waits patiently. Finally, he sets the silverware in his hands down, looking up at her. "Will – will you forgive me if I speak plainly, Miss Emily?"

"I'd encourage it." She refills his glass for him.

"What is it you want with me? I am scarcely more than a boy and know little when it comes to the information you're seeking." And one has to admire such blatant honesty, anyway.

"Oh, but I could always use another strapping young sailor aboard my _Queen_. Sure it is easy enough to pick some men up in Tortuga, but they'd hardly be as strong and sturdy as you."

He's intrigued by the idea. His eyes give him away easy, just as Alex's do. "And what would make you think I'd be any more willing to turn pirate than Captain Andrews?" He's trying to be a good boy. She should feel bad for toying with him so, but she just can't bring herself to.

She snakes a hand up to toy with one of the rubies dangling from the necklace around her neck and is pleased to see his eyes darting downward and lingering where they shouldn't. "Tell me, my dear Riley, I am curious. What would make a boy like you join the Company?"

He tears his eyes away to stare down at the plate before him. "My mother. She's ill. She has been ill for some time. They have treatments that may make her better for now, but we've hardly the coin to…" He trails off, shaking his head, sitting straight again and looking back up to her. "I was offered a way to earn it and now here I am."

"And what if my offer happens to be better?" He looks skeptical. She stands, he follows suit, and she makes her way over to her desk. Taking out a key, she sends a bit of a smirk his way before bending down and quite deliberately giving him a nice view as she unlocks one of the desk drawers. When she glances his way again, his cheeks are flushed and he's looking away, hands held behind his back resolutely. Goddess, he's making it too easy. Taking out one of the three small pouches occupying the drawer, she sets it on her desk with the distinct sound of jingling metal. This gets Riley's attention; his eyes travel down to fix on the pouch as she opens it and reaches inside – and pulls out a small, heavily engraved gold coin. Winking, she flips it to him.

He examines it, eyes widening. "Gold. Where did… what sort of…"

"That, is a Spanish doubloon." She slips back over to him, pressing in close to his side as she takes the coin out of his hand and holds it up in the candlelight. "And I'm sure I don't need to tell you how much a few of these could get you." Pressing her lips against the coin, her movements slow and deliberate, she then takes it and presses it back into his hand.

He clutches it, looking far more tempted than she would've dared to hope for. "I don't need your blood money, Captain." There is some lingering venom behind the words.

She laughs softly, slipping a hand up to run it over his chest, playing with the buttons of his vest. "My dear, dear Riley. You're looking at it all wrong. It's not as though whoever possessed those coins wasn't likely guilty of his own crimes. It's always something with these rich noblemen, isn't it? All that they possess and you, barely able to care for your ailing mother." She leans in just a little further…

He tenses, grabbing her hand in his own, stilling it firmly, but this is good. She's hit a nerve. "What would you know about it? Why do you do this?"

"Oh, I should think I know quite a bit for what the Admiral himself has done to me." She pulls away and turns, skirting around the table to stare out the window as though he's the one that's gotten to her. "Stealing me away when I was but a child." She crosses her arms, carelessly allowing the blouse to slouch down past her shoulder and reveal a bit more skin in the process.

"The Admiral?" There is shock in his voice now. "Why would the Admiral have done such a thing?"

"Oh, I've never quite known. I suppose he wanted my parents. But you see I only lived with my papa, a good man, a hard-working blacksmith. I could not have known at the time. And yet they locked me away." She throws just the hint of a waver into her voice.

Silence ensues for several long moments and then he comes up behind her slowly. "It seems – maybe there is more to this than I realized. Please forgive me, Cap-Emily." A hand comes up to rest, gentle and hesitant, on her shoulder.

Peg smirks inwardly at her sweet, sweet victory.

* * *

><p>They are a mere two days out at sea when Emily bounces out on deck, smirking into the morning sun as she makes her way up to the helm, her uncle's compass clutched in one hand.<p>

"Well. What's put in you in so fine a mood this morning, Cap'n?" Jo calls up to her.

"The Admiral and I are going to have another little chat, and I am very much looking forward to this one." Emily replies, her smirk turning to an evil grin as she looks down to consult the compass.

* * *

><p>"You've gone daft." Jo says, staring at Emily, eyes wide and incredulous. "Completely barmy. You'll never pull that off."<p>

"If I didn't have you, of course not. But I do. Surely you can teach me how to act like another little goody-goody, just for one night."

"It's not that simple, Peg." Jo says with her usual blatant honesty. "You're talking about cramming an entire lifetimes worth of etiquette lessons into a few weeks. And even if I could get you half way cleaned up and any kind of decent, they'd recognize you right quick, if not for the slight limp with your leg, then for the way you walk otherwise, with the swinging gait of a sailor."

"Surely, if I was wearing a dress… with those blasted stays, a woman can scarce move to begin with."

"And don't even get me started on the way you talk!" Jo cuts in. "You can't hold your tongue to save your life, and if any of those nobles heard you swearing like a sailor…"

"I can hold my tongue just bloody fine when I need to." Emily grumbles in reply – inadvertently proving Jo's point.

Jo only shakes her head, throwing up her hands.

"I think she could manage." This from Emily's papa, who's sitting with booted feet propped up on her desk, the flask which she'd given back to him in his hand and no doubt full of rum. Considering the state he'd caught her in a few mornings ago, she can't bring herself to say anything about it – for the same reasons, no doubt, that he hadn't really scolded her that morning. He's been curiously silent since Emily had outlined her plan.

Emily turns to him, surprised. "You..do?"

"You spent a year and half out at sea before this ship became yours? And you captain it so well the name Peg Leg Turner is spreading like wildfire. There isn't much I wouldn't be willing to bet you could do, Emily. I'd be more concerned about finding you a ball gown and actually getting you into this – what is it, anyway?"

"A birthday celebration for his sister's daughter. Or his brother's daughter? One of his sibling's daughters. Apparently Mummy N. liked children and Daddy N. _really_ liked giving them to her, if you know what I mean."

Will's eyes widen at what his daughter is rather bawdily implying, and he turns away as he drinks from his flask. Emily smirks; she enjoys doing that to him.

"Mummy and Daddy… N.?" Jo asks, raising a brow.

"The Admiral's parents. Riley couldn't get a full name out of Andrews, he only knows it starts with an N. It's not important, anyway. I assume he's the Admiral to anyone save for, perhaps, his family. Which, like I already said, is large. The number of people attending the ball will be even bigger. Hopefully, there'll be enough happening that I can slip in unnoticed."

"Right. That just leaves us with the matter of ball gowns." Jo says, apparently growing resigned.

"Gowns?" Emily asks, bemused.

"Aye." Her papa pipes up again, thinking along the same lines as the older woman apparently. "Or perhaps a suit for Sparrow. Young ladies are expected to have an escort, and I suppose," he looks as though it pains him to admit it, "if it's to be anyone, it may as well be the boy for the way he looks at you."

Emily doesn't get a chance to answer, as there's a rather frantic knock at her cabin door. "Cap'n!"

"Speak of the devil…" Her father mutters.

Emily scowls at him before crossing the room to open the door. "What is it, Alex?"

"We may 'ave a problem. I think ye'll want to see it for yerself."

Her father gets to his feet, tucking his flask away, and he and Jo both tail Emily out of her cabin.

The word 'problem' doesn't even begin to cover it. Emily is furious when she gets up on deck and sees who's stood before the steps leading to the helm, held in place firmly by two of her men. One glance at her father tells her he is as well.

"Joshua Turner, what the _hell _do you think you're doing?"

…

"...if we'd come across another ship? If I hadn't known you were down there, Joshy, do you know what might've happened? I didn't go all the way to the end of the world to get our papa back just to have you killed in a battle because you were stuck in the middle of it without my knowledge!"

"Peg." Jo scolds gently. "I think he's got it now."

Joshy is sitting in the window seat, staring down at his hands in his lap. He won't look at Emily, and hasn't talked save for to mumble the occasional apology. Jo crosses the cabin to him, sitting next to him and pulling him close. He looks up after a moment, wiping away a tear that's slipping down his cheek. "I'm sorry, Emmy. Really. It's just – I missed it so much, being on the ship with you. And I was so curious about Papa."

Heaving a sigh, Emily comes up to sit on the other side of him. He throws his arms around her, hugging her tight, and she presses a kiss to the top of his head.

"You're not going to take me back, are you?" He looks up at her, green eyes full of panic now.

Emily exchanges a brief look with Jo. "We're more than two days out. Bringing you back would mean losing time that I can't afford now, so you've got lucky this time around." He relaxes visibly. "But I'm putting you in Timmy's charge, you'll be a proper cabin boy with him now. And you'll sleep right by him, with the rest of the crew." Joshy nods, not even questioning this change. Emily goes on, sterner. "And you'll stay well out of Alex's way."

"Only if…" Joshy seems to steel himself, pulling away from Emily now. "Only if he stays away from you."

"What makes you think you can demand that?" She asks, more weary than indignant.

"Because – because you're my sister and he's not – you aren't…" He struggles to explain, which is apparently difficult when dealing with a nine-year-olds vocabulary.

"It's not up for discussion." Emily cuts him off firmly, then plows on before he can protest. "Now, about getting you a sword. You're still far young for that yet, but if you want to get that good with a blade I'd suggest asking our papa. I won't be putting one into your hands until he thinks you can handle it properly."

Joshy looks about to protest, but Jo nudges him. He relaxes some and nods, resigned, then shoots to his feet, his green eyes lighting up again. "I'm going to go find papa now."

"Alright. And Joshy." Emily ruffles his hair, offering him a small, soft smile. "I missed you too."

* * *

><p>"We shouldn't." But they're already alone in Emily's cabin.<p>

"I know." But Alex makes no move to leave.

"We've got them both watching." And she's secretly enjoying the thrill of that.

"Ye're dad'll 'ave me 'ead." And he's secretly hoping the older man will try.

"Suppose you could leave soon as…" She's already crossing the room.

"S'ppose that's just what I'll do." He's already removing his vest.

He knows she's going to be the end of him some day. She knows that day may be coming far sooner than he thinks. But they both know that they can't stay away, so they silently agree not to bother trying.

* * *

><p>Timothy Andrews thinks he really should've realized that the Connelly boy was going to be a problem. He wasn't like the other young men; he'd been begging on the streets when Andrews had picked him up, a scrawny urchin who was dangerous close to being an orphan and could barely even read. Taking the boy in had been a calculated risk; there was always the chance it could somehow go south like this. If it hadn't then Andrews might have had himself a good right hand man, which had been the point of the risk, but now here he was.<p>

"I won't. I won't do it." The boys voice is surprisingly steady.

"What's got into your head, Connelly? I warned you about the tricks she'd play! What makes you think she's telling you anything but lies?"

"I don't know that she isn't, sir, but I… with all due respect –"

"I think you've forgotten the meaning of the word." Andrews spits.

"…how am I to know whose lying and who isn't?"

Peter Montgomery, his other midshipmen, has been sitting quietly in the corner of the room for some time, but he shoots to his feet at this, apparently incensed. "Where were you before you were given that uniform? Penniless, a dirty little almost-orphan living on the streets! It's only because of the Captain…"

"Montgomery! That's quite enough."

"Sorry, sir. I just don't understand, Riley. Are you honestly going to take the word of this – this – murdering harlot over…"

"Do you want to know what that 'murdering harlot' is claiming the Admiral's done to her?" Connelly barks back, suddenly all spit and fire. "And when she was just a little girl, no less! And has it ever occurred to you – don't anybody else get to talk to the Admiral? We never even seen him! Only Andrews knows what's happening anymore, I heard the other men talking about it just the night before…" He trails off suddenly, shaking his head.

His fists are clenched and he's shaking with fury. Andrews isn't quite sure where he could be drawing it from. Several beats of silence ensue, until Andrews finally feels brave enough to speak again, each word chosen carefully. "The night before she sunk our ship, killed half our shipmates? Listen to yourself, Riley. Don't you see what's she's doing? She is indeed the Devil's daughter. A week, is that all its taken? She's wrapping you right around her finger. Are you so ready to throw away all you've worked for so far, all I've promised you?"

Connelly closes his eyes and takes a slow breath. His fists stop shaking and then uncurl. "All you've worked for, you mean?" And he seems to take care to match his Captain's more polished speech again. "And why did you promise me all of that? So you could – could have someone around to do you're dirty work later on, like you do for the Admiral? I'm sorry, sir. I'm – I'm not saying she's won me over. But I won't be the one to stab her in the back, either."

Andrews finds that he does not want to do what he should do now. He deliberates for a moment. They are stuck here. And Connelly does seem rather indecisive yet. Sighing, he decides to allow himself a luxury, just this once. "I'd suggest you think this through, Riley, and hard. Refusing to do as I ask will mean she has indeed won you and I will have no choice but to declare you a pirate and hand you over to her. I have no wish to do that to you."

Connelly turns away, shuffling across the room to stare out the window, not giving an answer. Andrews watches him and curses Emily 'Peg Leg' Turner in case he hasn't done so enough already and quietly decides that this means war.


	53. Of Shrews and Tattle-Tales

They still sleep together most nights. How they manage to not get caught is anyone's guess; Emily's almost willing to chalk it up to pure, dumb luck for all that her goddess really has been a much more distant presence as of late. They know they shouldn't. But there's a thrill that comes with knowing they could get in trouble for it; there's more than one reason why they can't resist.

This particular night is different, though, because they'd come across another ship, a Company ship, and Emily had been all too eager to see what her new _Queen_ could do. The other ship was destroyed a little too easily; the _Queen's _cannons blasted straight through to the powder magazine. The ship went right up in smoke and then sunk steadily into the water. Jo had been impressed. Joshy had snuck up on deck just in time to watch the other ship sink and had been mesmerized. Emily's papa had seemed some odd mixture of impressed and worried.

But Alex… Alex she couldn't read at all. And that was something. He hadn't followed her to their cabin when it was time to turn in. Refusing to be bothered by him, she simply goes to bed.

_She's draped herself in the window seat, the window swung open to let in the cool night air. Staring up at the pretty white crescent that is the moon, she sings softly to herself the tune her mother had taught her once upon a time._

'_Drink up me hearties, yo ho.  
>Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me.'<em>

_A pirate's life for her. And she knew, now, exactly how she was going to continue that life just as it was. So what if Alex Sparrow didn't like it? It wasn't his plan, wasn't his decision. It was hers, and she could live with it. She would. It was better than the alternatives, at least. Really, it was. And Riley… he'd be fine. She'd release him when it was all over and he'd be fine. And what did Alex know, anyway? _

_The bottle clutched in her hand is more than half empty, but she doesn't care, not tonight. In fact, she's half hoping to be good and passed out if Alex decides to come for her, so she brings the bottle to her lips and…_

"_Something tells me you've had enough." _

…_and nearly chokes to death on the spicy liquid at the soft but scolding voice that should not be coming from anywhere in her cabin. Too startled to even recognize it, she reaches for her sword and staggers to her feet. "Who's…" But there's no one. She stares into the relative darkness enveloping half her cabin, swaying a bit on her feet and only growing more confused._

_Then there's something just behind her. A creak, the sound of her desk chair sliding across the deck beneath it. Whirling around with her sword still at the ready – she staggers a step back and blinks slowly, once, twice. "Oh." She manages to articulate, brows furrowing. "Please tell me I'm dreaming."_

_Boostrap Bill Turner is sitting just before her, studying her intently and with perhaps a hint of curiosity. "Do your dreams often involve rum and dead men?"_

_Putting her sword away, she plops herself back down on the window seat. Glances around her cabin, down at the bottle in her hands, attempts to collect her thoughts. "There…sort of… is no 'usual' with my dreams. If this isn't one…grandfather, what are you doing here?"_

"_You have something your mother can't let you keep." He reaches forward and gently pulls the bottle out of her loosened grasp, setting it aside and out of her easy reach. "She's coming for it as we speak."_

_She's coming as we speak…she's coming…_

Gasping awake, Emily's eyes do an instant, frantic search of her cabin. She doesn't find her grandfather, or any rum for that matter. This does nothing to stop the frantic beating of her poor heart. The purpose of that vision was a little too clear for her liking; the clock is ticking, and whatever the plan is that she's apparently going to come up with, she needs to get to the thinking up of it. _Soon._

* * *

><p>There proves to be many a problem with Emily's new and still evolving plan right from the start. The biggest of these problems comes in the form of Riley telling her where they are likely headed. The Admiral, it seems, is fairly well known for his power by now; his family is situated somewhere in a newer and very wealthy district in London. This may be her only chance to get to him and have the upper hand while doing so – but she'll have to risk going into the lion's den to do it.<p>

As if that isn't enough, Jo points out that it'll be all the harder for Emily to pass herself off as being a lady if she has to do so in a proper ballroom full of London's upper crust. And that's not even mentioning how heavily guarded the Admiral will doubtless have his mansion, or the fact that he'll be likely to have at least half the guest list full of Navy or former Navy men. And then there was the fact that if anyone recognized her and she was locked up – there might not be any getting out, not in London, not right out from under the nose of the King himself. But she has a chance. She'll have to get it all just perfectly right. Reason says that it's nigh impossible.

But since when has she ever listened to reason?

* * *

><p>In all honestly, this is probably, properly hopeless. But, as everyone well knows by now, Emily Turner is nothing if not stubborn.<p>

"What is the point of this anyway?" She huffs, frustrated, as the books that had been precariously balanced atop her head crash to the floor beneath her again.

"Grace and balance. A young lady your age should have long since learned to pace a room without the books falling." Jo explains calmly from where's she's seated on a small, pretty sofa, drinking tea and looking rather dainty at first glance. Emily thinks she looks odd in her dress now, though. Something about the way she's sitting maybe, too relaxed, or her hair, left free and loose, or her skin, browned by the sun; she just looks out of place somehow. "Although, to be fair, any other girl of nine and ten years _would _have both her legs." Jo goes on, though Emily's only half listening.

"I don't know how they could manage with two!"

"…well, they'd also have the advantage of simply not being you." Jo stands and raises an eyebrow at Emily before retrieving the books and placing them on top of her own head.

Emily glares as the older woman crosses the room easily, the books remaining perfectly balanced. "I hate you."

"Yes, well, I'll live. This was all you're idea, remember." Jo hands the books back to Emily. "Again."

"I'm never going to manage this."

"You said you're at my mercy on this one. You can't afford to not have this routine down perfect, Peg, you know what happens if they catch you. Again. Alex should be here soon, we'll practice your dancing as soon as he is."

"Dancing. At least that might be halfway fun." Placing the books back on top of her head, she straightens herself up the way Jo had shown her and tries again. "And anyway, I still think you should be with me. Least that way I'd be less nervous." The books come crashing down – again – and Jo tells her to pick them up and keep trying.

"I suppose I could, but I'd be –," Jo hesitates, grimacing, "a bit out of place without an escort. If I say I've never been married I'll be a spinster, if I say I have there'll be other questions I can't answer."

"We could find you an escort. Bet that fine Captain of yours would do anything you like if it meant seeing you in a dress." The books already lying at her feet, she turns to give the older woman a suggestive smirk.

Jo blushes. "He's not _mine_. And he could be anywhere by now. Besides, it would mean having to get our hands on another two invitations. The invitations for you and Alex alone are costing us a small fortune."

"He can't have got _that _far, and between Alex and I coin isn't a problem. You should send him a letter."

Jo shakes her head, scowling. "We've already got enough to worry about. Again."

Emily rolls her eyes, picks up the books, places them atop her head, works her away very slowly across the room. "Wonder where Alex is anyway."

"He mentioned something about your brother and sword practice."

Eyes widening, Emily whirls around, reflexively holding out her arms to catch the books as they tumble down. "_What_?"

* * *

><p>The boy means well. Alex knows this. He understands. They all, in their own separate ways, want what's best for Emily. The problem is, they can't keep up like this, not all three of them. Emily won't have it, and goodness knows that if she isn't happy, no one else is either. So, he intends to simplify things. Because Joshua Turner – really is just a boy. And with the eldest Turner around to worry about Emily now, Alex has enough to worry about himself. To begin with, it really is just practice. He ropes the boy into it by finding him a real sword to practice with; Joshy can barely lift it, but refuses to back down.<p>

Alex doesn't want to hurt Joshy. Block, swipe just over Joshy's head, sweep to the side to easily avoid the younger boy's blade. Block again, twist and send Joshy's sword flying across the deck.

Joshy stands a moment, looking startled, before retrieving his sword. "Emily was right." He admits quietly. "You're fast."

"So is she. D'ye know she can beat me easy as I just did you?"

"I know she could." Joshy brings his sword up again. All is silent save for the clashing of steel for a moment as they go at it again; Joshy seems to try mimicking some of Alex's earlier movements, and lasts a bit longer for it, but his sword eventually ends up flying across the deck gain.

"Ye know yer sister can take care of 'erself." Alex points out as the younger boy goes to retrieve his sword again. Joshy only nods. Alex goes on. "Then why don't ye simply let 'er?"

Joshy is silent for a moment again, apparently thinking. "She's been different since you came. She never even talked about you before, and then that night… and she left me. _Twice. _She never would have done that before, I know it."

"Things just 'appen sometimes. People change."

"Not for the better."

"Maybe not in this case, but no one said that was for you to decide. And leavin ye be'ind – she was only tryin to keep ye safe."

"I'm not stupid." Joshy grips his sword a little tighter, bringing it up to face Alex again. "She just wanted me out of the way to…"

"To what?" Alex asks, perhaps a little condescending now. "Ye don't even 'ave the words."

"So she could have you!" Joshy finishes, angry now. He comes at Alex with enough rage to actually be a bit of a problem, though not a serious one.

Alex twists and turns, dodging the sloppy, rage-fueled attacks. Concentrating on foot work more than his own blade, he backs Joshy up until he trips over a set of barrels and tumbles to the deck on his bum. Then, with one long slash, Alex cuts open the sack of gun powder resting on the barrel right next to Joshy; the powder spills out right into Joshy's thick auburn locks, leaving him coughing and momentarily half blind. Hoping to drive the point home, Alex pulls his pistol out and aims at the younger boy's head, though he doesn't cock it.

Joshy scrambles to his feet, sword clutched in both hands and held out before him, but he freezes with wide eyes as he finds himself looking down the barrel of a pistol. Now, he drops the sword.

"I don't want to 'urt you." Alex tells him. "So don't go givin me reasons to need to. Peg can 'andle 'erself, and even if she couldn't, it'd be between me n' yer papa, not you." He lowers the pistol. "Savvy?"

Joshy glares up at him a moment, brushing the powder out of his hair, and Alex half expects the younger boy's going to say something about how the move Alex just pulled wasn't fighting exactly fair. It seems like just the argument a boy like Joshy would make. But he doesn't. Instead he just nods.

Alex puts his pistol away. "Clean that up. Peg would be mad as 'ell if her shiny new deck were left a mess like that."

Joshy continues to glare, but nods again. Satisfied that he's accomplished his mission for now, Alex leaves, remembering what Jo had pulled him aside to tell him earlier. Apparently, he has a date with a girl and piano, and if he doesn't get on his way by tonight, he'll be quite late for it.

* * *

><p>He only gets about halfway through good ole London town before he's stopped right in his tracks by a single, simple piece of parchment. It's not a huge surprise. Things like this were bound to crop up. It is worrying, though, if only just a little.<p>

It's stuck up in an alley just down from the shop where Emily had probably gone to get fitted for a gown, though it can't have been there the whole time, Emily wouldn't have just left it. Its message is quite simple; the word WANTED across the top, written in bold script, with a short description of why below a drawing of her. He curses quietly as he slips into the alley to get a closer look. Oh. Oh, that's her alright. And the script below; piracy, treason, escapes from jail. He laughs. So just being a general nuisance, then, oh yes, that's her. Quite a list for all that she hadn't been at it too long. And a description, too, which tells of her leg and all.

Glancing around to ensure no one's being nosy, he tears down the wanted poster, tucks it safe into his vest, and gets on his way again, this time with a little more haste.

* * *

><p>"Alex, where have you been, Jo said something about you and Joshy, but I <em>know<em> you wouldn't dare…" Quite the little shrew, his Emily. Always ready for a fight.

"Aye, ye're brother and I 'ad a little talk, came to an understandin I should think, if 'e 'as 'alf a brain to speak of 'e'll be stayin out of our business from now on. And don't ye worry ye're pretty 'ead, the only thing I 'urt was 'is pride, assumin that even counts for much in a boy not even ten." He presses a kiss to her forehead, then pushes past her into the small house owned by some friend of Jo's. "Jo. Lookin a right vision today, not that ye don't usually." He greets with a playful wink before taking the poster out. "Ladies, I believe we 'ave here somethin that may, just slightly, resemble a conundrum."

Jo rolls her eyes as she crosses the room, hands coming up to rest on her hips. "You sound more like your father every day."

"Was that meant to be insultin?"

"We _sailed _with your father, I couldn't possibly mean it as a compliment."

"Oi, there are worse things I could've gotten from 'im than 'is silver tongue."

"I happen to know there are worse things you _did _pick up from him, and they could be summed up in the name of one pretty little whore," Emily – or perhaps more Peg – interjects with all her usual bite, and she's adorable when angry, "though I doubt she's the only one, now Alex, if you have something to tell me…"

He narrows his eyes at her before turning back to Jo. "She 'asn't been drinkin today, 'as she? She gets snarky when she's been drinking, you know."

"Not today, she hasn't, though I suppose I could be missing something. She has been having a rather excessive amount of trouble with those books." Jo's hazel eyes dance with thorough amusement. "Though, if I'm honest, this is mild for her."

Emily pinches the bridge of her nose. "If you two keep this up, I might just _need_ a drink. Alex. You had something to say?"

"Somethin to show ye actually, though I can't say as it'll do much in the improvin of yer mood, might be better for me 'ealth if I 'old off." She glares at him. He places a kiss on the thin line that is her lips before taking out the poster. "Ye're pretty when ye're angry. Which might explain how ye always manage to be so beautiful. Right then. Our may-be-a-problem." He spreads the poster out. "Peg Leg Turner, ye're probably the most wanted woman in England. Which is to say, ye're quite possibly the _only _woman in England to have 'er likeness on a wanted poster. S'pretty impressive in its own way, ye ask me."

Emily scowls, leaning over to examine the poster. "Not that impressive. Bounties not that high."

Jo snorts. "You say that as if it's a bad thing."

"Higher the bounty, the more worried I've got the Admiral. With a price this low I'm definitely not trying hard enough. Considering I'm holding his favorite little lackey captive, I'm almost insulted."

Jo only rolls her eyes.

"Fortunately, they've only barely got ye're likeness down 'ere." Alex puts in. "Get ye all dolled up and pretty like the rest of the bonny lasses at this ball, they may not recognize ye based on this alone."

"One can only hope." Emily replies with a sigh. "Was this the only one you saw?"

"Aye, though where there's one there's bound to be others. I'd be smart about where I show my face if I were you."

"That's alright." Jo puts in. "She'll have plenty to do right here, as will you. Come on, both of you. Best get practicing those dances I tried to show you on the way here."

(Emily groans, but it isn't so bad, because sweeping across a dance floor doesn't feel so different from sweeping across the deck with a sword in her hand, and Alex is finding that he can enjoy anything if he has Emily as a partner.)

* * *

><p>He keeps up appearances so well even Emily can almost believe nothing's wrong. In fact, she really, truly <em>wants <em>to believe nothing's wrong, because goddess only knows that she has plenty enough to worry about as is. But he still won't call her Emily anymore, and he won't really look at her anymore either. And if they're going to pull off this plan of hers, she needs to not be worrying about him.

"You know," she starts, curled up on the sofa Jo had been occupying earlier, a cup of tea growing cold in her hands, "it does get rather frustrating, having to ask you what's wrong. Seems like it's always something with us, doesn't it?"

"That might be because it _is _always somethin with us, dearie." He replies.

She laughs softly, staring down into her teacup. "Point taken. Well, you might as well just tell me what I did this time, then."

His eyes dart up sharply to meet hers for the first time in what could be days. "Nothin. If ye'd done somethin, I'd've said. I think it's me that's the problem." He turns to stare down at his hands again.

Setting the tea she hasn't touched aside, she shifts around to make room on the sofa. "Alex. Come over here and talk to me proper."

He looks like he may protest, but there's never been a real doubt of who's in charge between the two of them; they both know he won't deny her. Rolling his eyes in resignation, he gets up and crosses the room, settling himself next to her. Taking one of her tiny hands in his large ones, he stares down at it as he speaks. "You know I love ye."

Her reaction is instant, instinctive; she flinches, attempting to pull her hand away. "Alex, I…"

"No." He cuts her off, not letting her hand go. "No, just let me… I know – knew – Emily Turner. I knew when she was upset, could easily figure out what was wrong. I knew 'ow she'd 'andle things when she was angry, and 'ow to 'andle her when she was angry. I knew... 'ow she felt, could see it in 'er eyes when she looked at me."

Brows furrowed, Emily squeezes his hand softly. "Alex. _I'm_ Emily. For you, I am always just Emily."

He finally looks up to meet her eyes again. "No. Ye're not. We aren't the same anymore, either of us. We stopped bein children; children couldn't 'ave cooked up this scheme of ours. The moment I made the mistake of sayin I love ye, I think. That's what did it, all at once."

"That's just what happens I suppose." Emily says, a little sad.

"It is." He replies. "It's just… it changes everythin, is all."

She hardens herself, preparing for what she thinks might very well be coming. "You're not – if you're thinking to leave again just because I won't keep up some pointless fantasy with you, Sparrow…" She snatches her hand away and shoots to her feet, fully prepared to slap him if he says the wrong thing.

Now, he laughs. A real laugh, as if he's really, very amused. "Sometimes ye me make me think… _'Come, come, you wasp; i' faith, you are too angry._'"

Her anger fades, just a touch, dulled by pleasant surprise – but only slightly. She snorts indignantly, turning to stalk across the room, but she simply can't resist responding in kind. "_'If I be waspish, best beware my sting.'_"

His footsteps chase her slowly to the small window by the door. "_'My remedy is_ _then, to pluck it out.'"_

She very deliberately ignores his approach. "_'Ay, if the fool could find where it lies.'_"

"'_Who knows not where a wasp does wear his sting? In his tail.'_"

She's holding back a smile now, but refuses to stop being angry. "_'In his tongue.'_"

"'_Whose tongue?'_" Alex wraps his arms around her waist, whispering in her ear.

"'_Yours, if you talk of tails,_" she forces her lips not to twitch upward as she slips out of his arms and makes as if to go off to bed, "'_and so farewell.'_"

"'_What, with my tongue in your tail?_'" He grabs her arm and pulls her back, arms circling her waist again, her facing him this time. "_'Nay, come again, Good Emily; I am a gentlemen.'_"

She meets his eyes and for a moment they just stare at each other. He's the first to break into laughter; she follows almost instantly, hitting him playfully. "I had no idea you'd ever read Shakespeare."

"There are, in fact, plenty of things ye don't know about me, darling. That was actually the first I'd read of him. Me granddad 'eard me talking about ye and apparently couldn't resist suggestin it."

Emily snorts, glaring up at him, half playful. "So, it's a shrew I am, then?"

"Aye. My beautiful, untamable little shrew. Always all spit n' fire. But I'm not goin anywhere, Peg. I still love you. And I know ye love me too, but I don't expect ye to say it back, I can live with this. Just… it's taken me time to figure that out, is all."

"But you wanted…" She wraps her arms around him, laying her head on his chest. "You wanted to run away from all this."

"I did." He confirms softly, bringing a hand up to run through her hair, pausing a moment. "But never without you. And I already said. We've both changed."

She pulls back slowly to look up at him again. "What about my papa? What we have… it was fine before I stole him back. I don't want to have to sneak around forever. But I don't want either of you to get hurt."

Alex's eyes harden. "Well, sounds to me like we've got two options, love." Love. He called her 'love'. She thinks she could live with him calling her 'love' again. She forces herself to pay attention as he goes on, hating how easily he can distract her. "We can run on back to me granddad soon as this whole business with the ball is over and done with. He's still a captain, he could marry us up quick, and that'd be the end of it."

Emily scowls. "Except that would just be giving in. And you know how I hate just giving in. Besides, papa would still be a problem, he'd never just agree to you marrying me."

"Then I s'ppose we'll go straight to ye're papa and just tell 'im, plain and simple like. If 'e wants a fight, then I'll give 'im one. Ye're more n' worth it, ye know."

"It's inevitable, isn't it?" She huffs. "Then that's just what we'll do, but I do not want either of you to get hurt." She reiterates. "If papa insists on a duel, first blood wins, and I want plenty of others around when it happens to make sure of it."

"Ye'll get no arguments from me, but Peg, there is no losin for me." His tone lowers to the half growl that tells her he's being very, very serious. "I will 'ave you. If I draw blood…"

"I can't promise I won't be angry. This whole thing is bloody ridiculous. If I have to see either of you hurt just because you've decided I can't very well make the decision for myself... "

He presses a kiss to her lips, effectively bringing to a halt the rant she was once again working up to. "'_Say she rail; why, I'll tell her plain, she sings as sweetly as a nightingale. Say that she frown; I'll say she looks as clear, as morning roses newly wash'd with dew.'_"

She rolls his eyes. "You think your clever, do you? Anyone can quote another man's words, you know, _dearie._"

He only smiles, placing another peck on her lips. "Mmm. I love ye too."

* * *

><p>It's not a decision he makes on a whim, really, it isn't. He doesn't want to get his sister in trouble, and he knows she'll hate him for this. But he's worried and he really doesn't like Alex Sparrow and it's become plain now that he can't fix this himself, he's too annoyingly, <em>bloody<em> small yet. (The words pop into his head just like that and he can just hear his sister scolding him for it and oh, she'll be so angry with him for this she may not talk to him at all anymore and the thought is so frightening in its way that his stomach churns and he almost doesn't do it.)

But no. Someone has to do something.

"Papa?" He asks shyly one evening, just before bed. He's been sticking close to his papa for the past few days now, because Emily and Ms. Gibbs have both gone off to do whatever it is that needed doing in London of all places.

They're on the _Sea's Queen_, Emily had somewhat reluctantly left their papa in charge of the ship, and he's in the galley playing cards with some of the other men. He sets his cards down upon hearing his sons voice, though, immediately excusing himself and leading Joshy out to talk. "Yes, Joshua?"

Joshy's first instinct is to correct him, because usually he's only 'Joshua' when he's in trouble, but he likes his name and it's so nice to hear his papa say it. He is silent for a nervous moment, trying to decide what to say. "Emily and Alex... I mean, they're – close. I mean, like-like…"

His papa's brows furrow. "I understand they are a bit more than simply friends, but…"

"You-you don't know. How much more, I mean, you don't know how much more, because no one would tell you that, no one wants to see what'll happen, but someone has to eventually, because it isn't…she's not…" His fists clench in frustration. He just doesn't quite have the words, or maybe, he does and he's just small and too afraid to use them because these are very big words in their way.

"Joshua." His father says, voice a bit more gentle as he kneels down to level with Joshy. "Whatever it is you have to say, say it."

"They're –_ lovers_. Papa – just ask the men, they've been sharing Emily's cabin for months now!"

His papa's eyes widen now. "How on God's green earth would you know that, son?" He asks bluntly.

Maybe he shouldn't tell him. Maybe he should just leave things as they are. The thing is, though, that night… he's been dying to tell someone about it. Someone who'll maybe understand why it had upset him so. And his papa, he thinks, will almost certainly understand. "I suppose Emily wouldn't have told you." He stutters a bit. "You see, the first time I sort of met Alex, they were…" And he goes on to blurt it all out in detail that is undoubtedly far more perfect that what either his sister or Alex can even remember of that night.

_Please don't hate me, Emmy. Please._

* * *

><p><em><strong>The play Alex and Emily are quoting in this chapter is the <strong>_**Taming of the Shrew **_**for anyone who doesn't know, and it's one I thoroughly enjoyed. Shakespeare can be impossible to try and read, I know, but this one at least is worth it, I think. There's also a movie version with the lovely Elizabeth Taylor that's lots of fun.**_

_**Thanks for reading. :)**_


	54. London and The Admiral

Jo Gibbs really is just full of surprises. Emily's beginning to wonder if she'll ever figure them all out.

She'd known that the older woman had something up her sleeve ever since London had first been mentioned, but hadn't asked. As loyal and honest as Jo had been to Emily for the past year and half, Emily feels it only fair that she step back a bit and just trust Jo in return. After all, Emily was so properly clueless when it came to dancing and ball gowns, she was fairly useless on her own.

With less than a week until the ball, Jo finally pulls Emily and Alex in to explain what she'd been up to. Apparently, her friend – the woman whose house they'd been occupying – is actually the governess of the girl the ball is for. She'd come to know the mansion itself, as well as its occupants, all too well over her time spent there. In other words, she'd been more than willing and happy to draw them up a rough map of the place and tell them as much as she could about the family she worked for, and had sent Jo off with a very genuine good luck.

"It's his youngest brother's daughter. Adelaide. She's just reached eight and ten year so the main purpose of the ball is for her to be thinking of suitors; it'll be mostly made up of wealthy businessmen, maybe some Navy men, but they'll all be paying more attention to her than anything else."

* * *

><p>"<em>You'll enter through the front entrance here. The invitations are genuine, as you know; the people they were actually for had to leave London on very, ahem, sudden and decidedly urgent business in the countryside. As a show of respect to the Admiral and his niece he sent…"<em>

"… his daughter, Elizabeth Appleby nee Thackery and her husband, a Mr. Alexander Thackery." Their driver rattles of as he hands the man at the gates the invitation.

Alex is the first to step down out of the carriage pulled by two large, pretty brown horses. Taking a moment to keep himself good and together, he stands tall and adjusts the fine, gold trimmed jacket he's wearing, and carefully adjusts the hat placed just so over his dark hair – curled at the sides and pulled back in a neat cue. Then, turning back to the carriage, he holds one large, tanned hand out. A smaller and somewhat daintier hand takes it, and the young woman who steps down out of the carriage next is – far too beautiful at first glance to be anything other than the fine young lady her gorgeous, blue, French styled dress suggests. In fact, the fine embroidery, beading, and bows its sporting suggests a young woman who knows well the latest fashions and enjoys dressing like it.

Taking a moment to brush out the front of said dress, Emily thinks she's glad she isn't quite as fond of rum as her men are; the fact that she hadn't spent all her coin on it is what had allowed her to afford the dress. She knows she's a little out of place even still, with the lingering gait of a boyish sailor and the too-pink complexion of her sun-kissed skin. They'd come up with a story behind that, though. They'll be frowned upon for it, perhaps, but it's a plausible story, and that's all that matters.

"_They aren't going to like your accent at all, Alex, so try to tone it down as best you can, like we practiced. Other than that, just try to act as though you belong. It shouldn't be too big a problem."_

Taking Alex's arm as he offers it to her, they exchange a look as they begin walking towards the entrance to the fine, Grecian columned mansion. "I 'ope you know what ye're – _you_'re – doing 'ere, Mrs. Thackery." He says nervously.

She hopes so too. "Of course I do." She reassures with a confidence she doesn't feel. "You just – concentrate on being the young Lieutenant Thackery."

"Lieutenant. Right." He takes a breath as the large, carved wooden doors open – and in they go.

_It may take some time to spot the Admiral, assuming he really will be there. Your best bet here is to take it slow, and don't be afraid to put those dancing lessons I gave you to good use. _

The ballroom itself is large and beautiful. A fine, polished piano sits in one corner where a small orchestra is also set up. The ceiling in the room is high, with a large crystal chandelier in the center. Tall windows draped in heavy curtains tied back with ropes line the walls, sconces set between them with candles flickering. The people the room is filled with are all dressed quite similar to Emily and Alex, the dresses varying in color some.

The young woman the ball is being thrown for is unmistakable – she's dressed the most finely in gold embroidered silks, and is just about always on the arm of a man. Emily and Alex make sure to stay well out of her way. However, there is no shortage of other people around. The conversations all end up going something the same…

"Oh, good evening! I had thought I knew everyone who was coming to see young Adelaide this evening. I'm…" Any one of a hundred names they hear this night.

"Alexander Thackery and my wife," he only stutters the first few times he says it, "Elizabeth."

"Pleased to meet you." Emily adds, demure and polite, with the slightest, obligatory curtsy.

"And you, Missus." The random noble replies, pointing at Alex. "You, lad, have the look of a sailor about you."

"I suppose I ought to, sir. I'm a Lieutenant, me. Just received my commission."

"Oh. Congratulations, good sir." And if their lucky, Alex's accent hasn't incited a grimace at this point. "And what of you, Missus? It does look as though you get no shortage of sun yourself, if you don't think it too rude of me, my dear."

"Not at all, sir."

"A touch spoiled, my Eliza is. Her father's only child, you see." Alex cuts in quickly. "Would much rather be out ridin 'er beloved mare than in the kitchens. Might well be why I love 'er so."

… Sometimes it's another woman they are speaking with and the focus is a little more on Emily than Alex. Just about all comment curiously on Emily's sun-kissed, lightly be-freckled skin, very few don't cringe lightly at Alex's accent (though none actually comment on it) and almost all have the boisterous or pompous air that is all too typical of the upper class.

Emily wants desperately to get ahold of one of the servants around to grab a glass of the wine they're carrying on silver trays by about the fifth of these encounters. Alex, determined to be entirely the reasonable one in Jo's absence, refuses to let her.

Eventually, Alex gets caught up in a somewhat deeper conversation with another sailor, and Emily takes the opportunity to slip off and search the ballroom out a bit. She hasn't seen the Admiral yet, but the night is still fairly young. It's possible he'd decided to finish up his work for the day before coming to see his niece. She wanders a bit, ending up at the tables set up in the back of the room.

That's when she catches just a glimpse…

A taller, somewhat older man. He's wearing a wig this night. But she could swear that's… it has to be him. She'd know that man anywhere. Following him from a distance absently, one hand preemptively inching toward the dagger hidden in the folds of her petticoat, she isn't watching where she's going, and….

"Oh!" A servant exclaims as she runs right into him, making him drop the tray in his hands. "E-excuse me miss, please forgive me miss, I didn't…"

"No, no!" Emily replies, cursing herself as she's now lost sight of the admiral, and what would she have done without Alex if she'd managed to follow him, anyway? Sighing, she turns her attention to the man she'd run into. "No, that was my fault. I'm terribly sorry, I was a bit distracted. Here, let me…" She goes to kneel down and help him, but can't quite manage it with her skirts and the full boned stay she's unused to wearing.

"No, I will get it, miss. Please." He holds up a hand, staying her.

She nods, backing up a bit – and running into one of the tables.

"I'd quit while you're quite ahead if I were you." The voice is just a touch condescending.

Emily turns around to find there's a woman sitting calmly at the table, sipping at a glass of wine. "Beg pardon?"

"My brother." The woman explains, calmly placing the glass down on the table. "The man you just had your eye on? There's a reason he's yet to take a wife. No woman can stand him long enough to get to the proposal, much less the wedding. No woman worth the having, anyway."

"I wasn't…" Emily almost laughs. "Goddess." Sensing something different about this woman, she shakes her head. "Milady, trust when I say, marriage is the last thing on my mind."

"Really? Well. I'd be quite interested to know what is on your mind then, I can think of few other reasons why any woman would wish to talk to him."

"I'm afraid the business I have with him is… personal in a much different way."

Now the woman eyes her, one eyebrow just raising as she reaches for her glass again. "Indeed. In that case, I should say you'll have to get in line."

"I'm sorry, miss…"

"Norrington. Laurel Norrington. I've never been married, I'm afraid."

Emily freezes. Norrington. That name again. The author of that book, so long ago…but that's not why the names familiar. Norrington. Where has she heard that name? Laurel, she knows from what Jo had been able to explain – the youngest of the family's nine siblings. A surname, though, was the one detail that had been oddly overlooked. But Norrington… Well, anyway, now she has a proper name to put to the Admiral. "Miss Norrington." She can't quite decide what to say next. Looking around, she grows curious. "Why are you sitting all the way back here when you could be elsewhere?"

"Never married." The strange woman reiterates. "My brother, the sod, insisted I be here but 'out of the way'." She holds up her glass. "So I decided I'd simply sit and enjoy the wine." She sips from it again.

"Right." Enjoy it a little too much, by the look and sound of it. Emily doesn't blame her. "Well. I'd best go – find my husband." She does stutter. "If you'll excuse me, milady."

"Good luck, Ms. Turner." Emily freezes, uncertain now. Laurel goes on calmly, tone lowered a bit. "If you're intending to take on my brother, you'll certainly be needing it."

Emily turns back to face the woman slowly. "How could you have known?"

"You have been the foremost thing on my brother's mind for some time, now. He's quite obsessed. And I, at least, know a sailor when I see one, man or woman. Lucky for you, none of these other mindless fools are paying such close attention."

Nodding once in understanding, Emily reaches for her dagger again. "So, then, Ms. Norrington. What happens now?"

"Well, I suppose I could call for my brothers _friends. _But then, he would hate for me to make a scene, and since he was so terribly insistent upon my fading into the background." She grabs her glass again, settling back into her chair. "I suppose, for my own safety, I shall just have to _plead _for you to spare me any trouble and be on your way." The sarcasm is scarcely veiled at all. Emily thinks she likes this woman. "By the way," Laurel continues, conversational now, "there's a lovely study just down that hallway there and to the left. My brother had the walls to that room made thicker. Perfect place for a private conversation on a night like this, I should think."

Unsure of how to respond to that, Emily simply darts back off to get lost in the crowd of the ballroom floor. Her mind races. She'd just met the Admiral's sister. She'd just met the Admiral's _sister_, and the woman knew who Emily was and had sent her off like it was nothing. The Admiral's _sister_, and she was obviously not very fond of her brother at all. Emily's mind begins flying through all the possibilities, for surely, there are many ways this new little tidbit could be put to good use.

Right now, however, she has to find Alex. Time they put their plan to action and hope to her goddess they don't get caught.

…

It's all very, deceptively tricky, really. The crowded ballroom, while being the very reason that their plan is so dangerous, is also the very reason that it has any chance of succeeding. Now that they're here, all that's left is for Alex to get close to the Admiral, just close enough…

Alex hadn't liked this part at all. Emily was banking on the Admiral not wanting to make a scene. If he's anything like the man she thinks he is, he'll not want to admit that a known fugitive, a _woman_ no less, managed to slip into his mansion on a night like this, totally unnoticed. Alex is worried that the Admiral's desire to see Emily caught or killed will trump his pride. She can see where this would make him so nervous; if she makes the Admiral angry enough, he could have both Emily and Alex taken out to the edges of his mansions grounds and then _disposed _of, quickly and quietly, just to be done with it.

But even that would require him to call for his men and have Emily and Alex forcibly removed from the party. Someone would notice something going on, Emily would make sure of it, and questions would be asked. And the Admiral won't want that. Emily's certain of it.

The music being played changes up and the other party guests form rows to begin weaving around each other, switching partners every so often in another dance that, thankfully, Jo had shown them. Emily catches Alex's eye and gestures subtly towards the other end of the room, where the Admiral has stepped aside and is speaking with an older man in a Navy uniform. Nodding in return, Alex slips into the mix of dancers, joining them seamlessly and working his way across the floor to where the Admiral is.

Emily, trying to appear calm and collected as possible, begins inching her own way back past the tables and the woman, Laurel, who glances in her direction. She makes eye contact with Emily for one rather curious moment before getting to her feet, turning in the direction of the single servant-that-looks-more-a-guard posted outside the hallway Emily's heading for. Staggering drunkenly in a way that, to Emily's eyes, looks deliberate and exaggerated, she slips over to the guard and begins talking to him, rather animated. Several moments pass, and then the guard, looking embarrassed and exasperated but not surprised, takes her arm and begins guiding her away.

Leaving the hallway wide open. Emily slips down it, turns to catch Alex's eye from across the room (he appears to be having a simple, pleasant conversation with the Admiral, but Emily knows better). Then she turns and darts down it to the doorway Laurel had said lead to the thick-walled study. The door, of course, is locked.

Sighing, Emily glances around a bit before reaching into the pocket hidden in the folds of her skirts. Taking out a few small, simple metal pieces, she crouches down and begins picking the lock. It opens easily enough, she'd taken time to practice that new skill a bit, and she slips inside.

It takes several long and heart-pounding moments, but soon she hears footsteps. Letting out a breath as the door opens again, she crosses her arms, leaning against the fine wooden desk dominating the far side of the room, allowing a smirk to play at her lips. Now this – is the trickier part.

The Admiral is the first through the door. Alex throws him forward roughly, quickly shutting the door, and making sure the pistol aimed at the Admiral is – well, still aimed at the Admiral.

"You'll never make it out of here alive, boy, how dare -," and then the Admiral spots Emily and instead of the full rage she's expecting he stands tall and brushes out his coat and looks _pleased_. "Ah. Captain Peg Leg Turner? Is that you? What a wondrous sight for sore eyes you make; one might almost believe you to be a lady."

Ok. So, she wasn't expecting him to just go along with it all, but Emily does her best to keep the smirk. She has the upper hand. Not for long. But she has it and she intends to enjoy it while she does. "Mmm, just as one might believe you to be a gentlemen, until they see what you're capable of with that shriveled, black thing one might mistake for a heart. How strange that I am 'captain' now. I seem to recall being only 'the little harlot' when last we met."

"A lady just until she opens that mouth." He doesn't miss a beat. "Indeed, you were, but then you escaped and absconded with that lovely little _boat_ of yours, so I won't deny you've earned it. Now, you haven't much time until I am missed. What is it you want?"

Emily eyes narrow at the insult to her _Queen, _but lets it go seeing as he hasn't seen her new ship. "I have a friend of yours."

"I have many friends, Captain."

"Oooh, but I should think you've very much missed this one by now, especially considering what he was carrying."

Realization dawns; now there's anger in his eyes, but his tone remains pleasant. "Ah. The letters. If it's a civilized discussion you were looking for, I may have considered giving it to you had you only been polite about it."

"Oh, but this way seemed so much more fun." Emily taunts back. "And it really was too easy. All those silly little posters you've got around and not one of your spoiled guests noticed a thing wrong." That's a lie. It had gone rather smoothly, but it hadn't been easy by any means either, and she's sure not a few of the people she'd talked to had noticed something at least a little off.

"Well, I can hardly blame them. They do, I'm sure, have better things to occupy their minds with. Scum such as you and your men," he glances back at Alex, eyebrows raising upwards briefly, "are my concern, not theirs. Now, tell me, did you read the letters yourself? Because I can assure you, Captain, I am quite serious with the bargain I am offering to make."

"Oh, I'm sure you are. What I want to know is why."

"Why? Because you intrigue me. Because I believe you are far more valuable than first glance would imply. Because my only other option would be to have you hung and that would be a downright shame for a young woman so beautiful as you. Take your pick, my dear."

"Valuable? What do you mean, valuable?" Emily snaps in response, growing tired of his cryptic non-answers.

He eyes her a moment, his head tilting curiously. "You don't know?"

"Know what?"

"Oh, splendid! That's somewhat of a relief, I must say. If you don't know than my telling you now could change everything. My dear, dear Captain. I'm surprised this goddess of yours hasn't seen fit to explain it all."

Ok, she's had about enough now. Alex holds the pistol up to the Admirals back, ensuring he stays put and Emily stalks across the room. Taking out the dagger, she holds it up to a rather delicate place just below the Admirals belt. "Let me make something very, very clear. You have not been missed just yet. There's still plenty of time for me to lose my temper, and none of your little friends are currently around to protect you. So the next thing out of your mouth better bloody well be something _useful._" She puts a little more pressure on the dagger and finds, in that moment, that she is very, very tempted…

He freezes, holding both hands up in surrender. "Easy now, Captain." A little more pressure, now he winces. "You…you're the child of Her newest little pet, you see. Now since your mother very much exists, and is alive enough to run her ship, I should think it's safe to assume all those old legends are quite true to some extent. And if they are, than you my dear, are very, very unique."

"Unique _how_?" Emily half growls.

"Patience, patience." He chides, though he glances down at the dagger nervously. "These legends suggest that Davy Jones was not the first to be given the job your mother is now meant to be doing. He was only unique because the lover that was his anchor was the goddess herself, and he fell to the curse as a result."

"What does that have to do with me?"

"The legends _also _suggest that any children begat by the ferryman were – well, it's a curious thing, isn't it? Your mother has no heart and therefore is dead by any standard science has so far set, and yet she was just alive enough to conceive you. And I do seem to recall, upon our last encounter, that any wounds you received were gone within a remarkably short period of time."

"I am blessed by my goddess to heal quickly." Emily says, growing confused now.

"Are you? Your goddess can do much in the way of protecting those she gives her blessing, but of the few others I have met, none could heal as you do."

This information is startling to say the least. She'd always figured… but wait, no, that's just it. She'd _assumed. _But Ana had scars lining her body left and right. And Jo – she'd fallen ill, Emily remembers now, some few months before they'd met up with Alex at Shipwreck again. The older woman had pulled through, obviously, and it could even be presumed that their goddess did have a hand in that, but she was bed ridden for weeks. Emily had never fallen ill like that, at least not that she could remember, excluding the time she lost her leg. "Oh." She murmurs, lowering the dagger.

The Admiral relaxes visibly. "Indeed. You're valuable, Ms. Turner, because like your mother, you are not quite dead _or _alive. You are something in between. Although you may continue to age, it is quite possible that you cannot be killed. And that, my dear, presents me with an opportunity I could not possibly pass up. An invulnerable captain, protected by a goddess no less? It's almost enough to make the fact that you are a woman quite irrelevant."

A fresh wave of anger washes over her and she brings the dagger back up to its threatening position. "And what the hell makes you think I would ever even consider joining _you_?"

Now he's smirking, and her stomach twists itself into a knot. "Because though you are, above all else, wonderfully clever, you have too soft a heart to maintain the position you've put yourself in. There will come a time, very soon I think, when you realize that you have one very simple choice to make: take my offer, which will remain quite open for the time being, or watch everyone you've come to love die."

Emily chances a glance back at Alex, but he's not looking at her. He's too busy glaring holes into the Admiral's back, the pistol shaking in his tightly clenched fist. "Die?" He growls in that low, danger voice of his. "What are ye goin to do, send you're fleet after us, have 'em sink us while ye sit back and watch like a coward? Why don't ye find us a pair o' blades to use, see which one of us is the one who really ends up dead?"

The Admiral glances back at Alex, his eyes darting down to the pistol. "Pull that trigger and I can promise, you'll never make it out of here. Well, not alive, anyway."

"Easy, Alex." Emily says, quiet but firm. "He's right."

"Contrary to what you might think, I have no actual wish to see you dead, Captain." The Admiral confesses. "I wasn't lying when I said you intrigue me. Why don't you take time to think over what I've told you? We'll meet again soon enough, perhaps then we can have a talk where knives and bullets are not so much necessary."

Emily eyes him, calculating, trying not to show her own exasperation. He'd explained everything and nothing all at once. So she is invulnerable to harm. She already _knew _that. He wants her because a captain who is quite possibly incapable of dying could prove useful. That makes sense. But useful for what exactly? What is it he's planning that would have him willing to put a woman – a woman with the bad blood of not one, but two pirates running through her veins, no less – in charge of one of his actual, official vessels?

She's desperate to demand more answers, but she's pushing her luck where time is concerned as it is. Heaving a frustrated sigh, she puts the knife away. "Fine. Until next time, _Admiral_. Alex." He keeps the pistol trained stubbornly on the Admiral's head, and she's never seen him look so murderous. "Sparrow!" She snaps, tone more commanding this time.

He lowers the pistol slowly. "Aye, Captain."

Stalking past the Admiral, Emily pauses at his side to glare up at him a moment, then allow her smirk to slide back into place. "Oh, and as for my so called 'boat', feel free to send more of yours after me. We had loads of fun with the last one. Didn't we, Alex?"

"Went right up in smoke, it did." He agrees. "Almost too easy."

The Admiral's brows furrow at this, anger brewing behind his eyes again. Alex hurries her out before her mouth can get them into any real trouble.

…

She's only half paying attention as they slip back out; Alex guides her with a firm hand to the small of her back, and they are stopped a few times on the way, but she doesn't remember any of the conversations.

…_not quite dead or alive. Something in between. Unable to die._

She thinks this should, maybe, be good news, _great _news. Maybe she doesn't have to worry about her mother. Maybe all she has to do is make sure no one – Joshy, her father, Jo, _Alex, goddess forbid _– else is around when they finally have the stand-off her goddess had been warning her about. Maybe they can't kill each other and they'll have to find some other way to fix things, somehow.

But the words keep echoing in her mind. _Not quite dead or alive. Unable to die. Something in between. _

_Something in between_.

She kept calling herself the devil's daughter. Maybe she really hadn't been so far off. Perhaps the thought should be a relief in some way. But she really feels anything but relieved.

* * *

><p>"…unique? What's that meant to mean, unique?" Jo glances in Emily's direction, brows furrowed.<p>

Emily rolls hers and says nothing, only stares down at the dagger in her hand that she's been fiddling with. Almost. She almost… She could've had him…just the flick of her wrist…

"We don't know, Jo." Alex replies for her. "I mean, I've never 'eard anythin like what 'e was talkin about. He mentioned somethin about 'er mum, about how she's not quite dead or alive."

"Well, what did he say exactly? Surely there was more."

Alex glances in Emily's direction. She still says nothing, just continues to play with the dagger. He shrugs. "Poppycock, Jo. Rubbish. That's all it was. He wants 'er because she's a woman and she's bested 'im twice now, 'e'd probably 'ave said anythin if 'e thought it might get 'er to stay with 'im."

"Alright. Maybe. With the way Peg's been baiting him," they're beginning to talk like she's not even in the room anymore, "that wouldn't surprise me. But I'd still like to know what exactly he said."

"Jo, I'm tellin ye, it doesn't matter."

"I think it does. Alex, I've heard something about this before. There may be a way to…"

"To what?" Alex scowls. "Don't think I've forgotten what I caught ye with the night after…"

"I didn't…that was…I told you…" Jo shakes her head, looking a tad sheepish, but she doesn't back down. "Blast it, Alex, why can't you just tell me! We might be able to help her!"

"I'm still here, you know." Emily speaks up dryly, causing both Alex and Jo's eyes to dart to her. "He said I was some sort of… I don't know." She shakes her head, frustrated. "He seems to think that, somehow, I'm – not quite alive. That since my mother is… My mother. Damn!" Fist clenching around the hilt of the dagger, she brings it up and throws it in frustration, watching as it spins neatly and embeds itself deep in the door across the room. "I don't want to be her daughter! I'd rather…goddess, I'd _rather _turn out just like papa!" The anger fades as quickly as it came and her shoulders slump as she buries her face in her hands tiredly.

All is silent for what seems an eternity. After a few moments Jo sits herself down on the sofa, and Alex's heavier footsteps cross the room to retrieve the dagger, then make their way back over to her.

"I'm sorry, love." He says softly. "I didn't even realize…"

She forces herself to look up, shaking her head. "No. I don't even want to talk about it."

Jo's staring down at the floor, thinking apparently. "But wait. I think…I know…my books. I'd have to talk to Addy."

"Jo, what are you going on about now?"

"I used to be a maid for this wealthier woman in France, but that's not important, what is important is that when I left I had some books that talked about…" Alex, Emily notes, narrows his eyes at the older woman at this. Jo notices too, and clears her throat. "But, right, the point is, I think I need to get my hands on them again. But I'd have to ask an old friend about them. And she won't be happy to see me."

"Good." Emily replies on impulse. "Sounds like fun to me. I could use a distraction. Where could we find this friend, then?"

Jo looks sheepish again. "Well. You see, you already know her. Although, I didn't, apparently, not as well as I thought. I mean, honestly, she was such a sweet girl to begin with, you'd never believe…"

"Jo! You're giving me a headache. The point?"

"Her name was Adrienne. Adrienne Barbossa, I suppose, now. And she'll be looking to have my head on a platter, so if it's a distraction you want…" Emily and Alex just stare at her. Jo's hand shoots up to begin playing with her raven curls as she grows more flustered. "Right. So, then, there's still some things you haven't told me?"

Emily glances in Alex's direction. He rubs the back of his neck and suddenly grows very interested in the wood floor beneath them. "Maybe…just a thing or two…" He mutters.

Emily's curious as to why Adrienne Barbossa would want Jo's head on a platter, but doesn't bother to comment on it since she'd still love a good reason to have _Adrienne's_ head on a platter. "Well, then. She'll be with her father still, I'd assume, so. Either of you heard tell of the _Queen Anne's Revenge_, by chance?"

* * *

><p><em><strong>Surprise! One new chapter, a bit earlier than usual, and I already have the next one written right up, so there you go.<strong>_

_**So, yeah, remember that scene way back in chapter 38 where Alex gets himself thrown out of a tree and right into a camp full of Spanish sailors? If this last scene confused you, go re-read what Adrienne told him just before all that happened… aaand now it should make a little more sense. :)**_

_**Thanks for reading!**_


	55. Dysfunction

"Emmy!" Joshy barrels down from the ship, throwing his arms around Emily in a tight embrace.

It's a wet, dreary afternoon. The sky above them is grey and thickly clouded, but Emily's quickly come to realize that's not uncommon in these parts. Still, the bleak atmosphere isn't doing much to improve her mood. Then again, neither is the fact that she's still wearing a dress, or the fact that Alex has been hovering over her like a mother hen for the past day and a half. Not that she minds him keeping close. She's just getting sick of being worried over.

And now this. "Yes, hello, Joshy." Confused, she hugs him back, then pulls away to look at him. "What was that for?"

He looks up at her, green eyes wide and panicked in a way that she can't make any sense of. "Nothing. I mean, it's just that I missed you. I mean, 'cause I always do when you're gone."

He's lying, and not very well, as usual. Normally she gets annoyed when he tries, but something about his whole demeanor has her worried this time. Softening, she waves Jo and Alex off before refocusing on her brother. "And I missed you too, but it hasn't been that long. And what have we talked about when it comes to lying?"

"That I don't need to with you, I know, Emmy."

"So tell me what's wrong."

He stares up at her and looks like he maybe wants to, but instead shakes his head vehemently. "Not this time, Emmy. I can't."

"Oh, come on, it can't be that bad, whatever it is."

He only shakes his head some more and throws his arms around her again. "I love you, Emmy." He pulls back just far enough to look up at her again. "You love me too, right?"

Now she's really worried, but can also recognize a losing battle when she's on the wrong end of it. "'Course I do, silly. When did that become a question?" She presses a kiss into his hair. "Now, come on." She leads him back onto the ship. "I'm sure Ms. Gibbs would like a 'hello' as well you know, and Alex tells me you two had an interesting conversation that I'd like to hear about."

He opens his mouth, relaxing just a fraction, apparently about to launch into whatever it is he has to say about said conversation. He never gets the chance, however. Their papa meets them the moment they make it onto the ship, and he does not look happy. _What now?_

"Joshy, why don't you go find Ms. Gibbs. We'll talk later, I promise." He looks at their papa, then her, then their papa, again with that panicked look. After a moment, though, he just nods and walks off obediently. Emily turns to ask their papa if he knows what on earth is wrong, but stops when her attention is re-drawn to the scowl he's sending her way. She braces herself. "Alright. What is it?"

He opens his mouth as if about to launch into an explanation standing right where they are, but then glances around and seems to think better of it. To her shock, he grabs her arm instead, gentle but firm, leading her away. "We need to talk. The _boy _better not be in your cabin."

And then she just knows it's going to be all downhill from here.

…

"It's been weeks!" She's never seen him so furious. "All the conversations we've had and _this _is what you decided to leave out? Am I your papa or not?"

"Of course. We were going to tell you. Papa, as soon as we got back from London, we were going to. It's not… I mean, it's not a crime." She's holding out hope. She knows none of her crew would have dared tell him about… it wasn't there business, and they knew it.

"Not a…" her papa scoffs.

"Being in – I mean, being, erm," still trying to avoid the words 'in love', "fancying someone. It's not a crime."

"No, it's not. I already knew you were in love with him, Emily, that's not what I'm talking about."

Emily pails, takes a breath to steady herself. "Alright, then, perhaps you'd better just tell me what you are talking about so we can get this over with."

He pauses, angry eyes studying her hard for a moment. "I'm talking about that _boy_ – Christ, he's Sparrow's son!" He rakes a hand through his hair.

Emily squares her shoulders, gathering her courage. "The boy has a name. It's Alex. And he's not a boy at all, he's a man. Now, if you have something to say to me, Papa, then just say it."

"He took you're maidenhood." He snaps back bluntly. "I don't know what to say!"

Horror is her immediate reaction. It's soon replaced by cold, hard fury. "Who told you?"

"It's true, then. You've been…with him…and I didn't even..."

"Who. Told. You?" She insists. "I want a name. I'll-I'll cut out his bloody tongue, whoever it is, I swear to my goddess, he'll never say another word, I'll make sure of it!"

An odd hint of worry breaks through the anger written all over her papa's face. "It's not important. You couldn't've kept this from me forever, surely you knew that."

"Of course I did, which is why we – Alex and I were going to tell you! I'll have a name, damn it, I've worried about this from the beginning. I won't have my crew thinking they can go behind my back!"

"Emily."

"I mean, how many times must I say it? I didn't come all this way to be treated like some silly little damsel! My business is my business!"

"Emily, please…"

"And of course Alex and I are… he didn't _take _anything from me, Papa, I knew full well what I was doing too! I am not some foolish little girl, and I will not have anyone thinking otherwise, so you will give me a name!"

"Emily." He's gone quiet, which is what gets her attention this time. "I'm asking you to drop it. It's not important. What is important is that I can't let this go."

She takes a moment to calm herself some, only going on when she thinks she can do so without shouting some more. "Papa, there is nothing to let go of. I just said. I knew full well what I was doing. Hell, I was the one that acted on the idea first."

"I beg your pardon?"

"Would you really like the details?" She crosses her arms. "Because I could get more creative in telling you if you'd like."

"No!" Now he pails, and one hand reaches for his flask. "No. I've already got more details than I need."

Emily rolls her eyes. "Tell me something. What bothers you more about this? The fact that it's Alex or the fact that we aren't married? Because if it's only the fact that we aren't married, there's a red haired little boy running around my ship right now who calls me his sister, and I don't remember a wedding involved in the bringing about of him." It's a cruel thing to say, although she doesn't realize just how cruel until the words come swimming out into the open, not that she particularly cares anyway.

Her papa doesn't look as hurt as she might've hoped, though. He only shakes his head, expression going unreadable. "Do you love him?"

"What?"

"The boy. You said he loves you. But you didn't say whether you loved him."

She scoffs. "What does that have to do with anything?"

"Perhaps not much, but I want to know. Do you love him?"

A long moment of silence passes. Knowing she'll never forgive herself if she denies Alex so pointedly, she gives in. "Yes. Yes, Papa, I do."

"Then you could've waited the time it would've taken to set up a wedding somehow."

"It's been a little more complicated than that. I mean, there was…and then we had…and then he…I…we…" Huffing in frustration, she throws up her hands. "So that's it then. You can't just give us your blessing and get over it?"

"He hasn't impressed me so far, I see no reason why I should, Emily."

"Give him a proper bloody chance and he might!"

"Alright." He agrees readily. "If it will make you happy, I will, of course."

She wasn't expecting that. "Oh."

"But he'll keep his hands off you in the meantime." It's not a suggestion.

She doesn't have it in her to argue. In honesty, this is what she'd wanted, right? For Will Turner to actually try being her papa for once? She'd asked for this. "Right. Fine. Just as long as you keep an open mind, Papa."

He only shakes his head with a scowl before making his way back out of her cabin. The door opens and he disappears into the hallway. Contemplating her next move a moment, she follows belatedly, lost in thought…and is nearly knocked right over for the second time that day, and again by her brother no less.

Wait.

"Joshy? What are you doing down here, I thought I told you to go find Ms. Gibbs?"

"I was, just, I mean, umm…" There it is again, the panic. What is he so…

Oh. Oh, it makes sense now, and she really wishes it didn't. The way he'd hugged her.

'_You love me, too, right?'_

The anger drains out of her. For once, there's just no room for it. She feels too hurt, too utterly betrayed. She'd tried. She'd come for him when he asked and sure she'd left him behind but at least part of that was to keep him safe and she'd tried to make sure she never turned him away when he needed something and they were siblings. She knew he didn't like Alex. But this…she'd thought she could trust him.

"Emmy?" He asks quietly. "Emmy, say something. Please?"

She can't. She has no words and isn't sure she could get them out even if she did. Shaking her head, she turns and begins walking down the hallway, calm as she can manage.

"Emmy?" He calls after her in a small voice.

She doesn't look back.

…

Thinking it's probably not the smartest idea for them to stay within such easy reach of the Admiral, they set sail that evening. Not knowing where else to start, Emily sets them on course for Tortuga. She doubts the _Queen Anne's Revenge _will be there, but if they're going to find out where it has been, there'll be no better place to ask around then Tortuga.

Emily just hopes it will be that simple. Her mother's one day on land is creeping closer and closer, and if she doesn't have a plan by then…well, she doesn't have much choice. She has to figure something out by then.

* * *

><p>"Hang it all, she's done it again!"<p>

"Blast, that's all I 'ad left to bet, it was!"

"Where'd ye learn ta play like that anyway, Cap'n?"

Emily gives a perfectly devilish, toothy grin as Jo, sitting next to her, gathers the cards and shuffles them, a smirk playing at her lips as well. "Cap'n Jack Sparrow, the one and only." Emily replies proudly. "Although I daresay I wouldn't be near this good if I hadn't practiced on the men at the tavern back home." She snatches up the bottle that's currently settled in front of Jo, although they've been passing this particular now-a-bit-more-than-half-empty bottle back and forth since they first sat down to play. "Earned me a much needed shiny penny on more than one occasion." She brings the bottle to her lips and drinks just as Alex enters the galley, probably looking for her. He's looking a little too serious for her liking. She sends a mischievous smile his way before turning back to the men she's been playing with. "Give up yet, gents?"

The answer is a resounding 'no', as she knew it would be. A short discussion ensues wherein it's decided that they will continue playing, but another game not of her choosing, so as to perhaps allow the men to earn back all they'd lost. She brings the bottle up again, intending to indulge in another sip – only to have it snatched out of her hand just as the rim touches her lips. More surprised than anything else, she turns with brows just slightly furrowed to see Alex, who is still absent his usual playful manner. He sets the bottle back down on the table a little harder than necessary and she stares at him blankly a moment.

He looks like he has something to say, but here she's the captain first and Emily (Peg? He still won't call her Emily) second, he knows better than to start a row with her in front of the men. Weighing her options, she meets his eyes. _Fine, then. _

"On second thought, boys," she turns back to the men she's been playing with, "I think I'd best quit while I'm ahead." A chorus of groans and protests follows, but they are mostly lighthearted, and she waves them off before collecting what she's won.

Alex follows her out and all the way to her cabin. She's tempted to tell him to close the door, her papa be damned, but thinks better of it as she crosses the room to tuck her now-quite-full coin purse into a drawer in her desk. They'd made an agreement, albeit a reluctant one on both their parts, the least she can do is try to keep to it. Draping herself lazily in the window seat, she settles her attention back on Alex. He's hovering in the doorway, looking somewhat uncertain, rather disgruntled, and very preoccupied.

"Well?" She asks.

He stares at her a moment, then shakes his head. "This is ridiculous."

"There are many things to which I'm sure you could be referring, _dearie_." She mocks him a bit, light and playful. She doesn't want to be serious right now. "You might try being a touch more specific." How is it she starts to sound a tad like him at times? Or maybe that's her uncle's influence. Or a bit of both?

He crosses the room to sit at the end of the window seat. She curls up with her legs across his lap. "This. Us. Yer papa. He was _dead_."

She heaves a long-suffering sigh. "I should think I'm well aware."

"He wasn't around to…even if I'd been worried about 'is blessin, Peg, it didn't matter."

"I know it didn't matter, and I daresay I wouldn't've been too worried about his blessing either, or have you forgotten whose idea it was the first time we nearly…?" She smirks, a little suggestive, still quite playful.

"Couldn't forget if I tried." But he isn't smiling, and he seems to be studiously ignoring the kind of mood she's in. "So, then, tell me, love: why are ye lettin it bother ye now?"

"Why are you?" She shoots back. "I've watched you talk the two of us right out of a prison cell, surely you can play nice with my papa just until…"

"Until what? What do ye think 'appens next?"

"Until he agrees to a marriage, I suppose." She replies airily. "How does 'Emily Elizabeth Sparrow' sound to you?"

He scowls. "Peg. I'm not in the mood. Please."

She ignores him. "Not sure I like the idea of being a missus, but I'd still be captain and I'm Peg to just about everyone else now, suppose it wouldn't matter anyway."

"Ye know, the problem is, I could prob'ly be the ruddy king of England and Will Turner still wouldn't think me good enough for you." Alex is on the war path tonight apparently. Isn't that usually where she is?

"Well, then I'll tell him to find someone else to sail with. Must be weird anyway, taking orders from his daughter. Uncle would take him. They actually got on alright, I think, in the end. You as a king, though. That's worth a laugh."

"Can you be serious, just for a moment?" He snaps.

"I am being serious, Alex. 'Least about that last part. I love my papa, but not more than I do you now." The words slip out so easy. As if they have a life of their own and were just waiting for the opportune moment to swim out into the open.

Alex stares at her. His eyes light up, just briefly, but as he searches hers he gets that sad look she still catches glimpses of. As usual, he quickly hides it, this time with a scowl. "Ye're drunk."

What's the point in denying? "More than I thought, apparently." She looks away, her eyes darting restlessly around the dimly lit cabin. "It's not like you didn't already know."

"That ye love me? 'Course I do. Just… 'earing it loses some of its meanin if ye can't get the words out sober." He doesn't sound hurt, as the words should imply. Actually, he sounds angry. And maybe, almost scolding? And now he's staring at her, expectant.

It's her turn to scowl. "Well what do you want, an apology? For what? I'm not sure I even know."

The sad look is back now. He reaches out a hand, cupping her cheek. "We're not our parents." He murmurs at first. "We _are not _our parents." A little more forceful.

"Alex…"

"We're not our parents. But ye're dad won't let me 'ave ye because I'm too much my own father's son. And now lately you…" He trails off, shaking his head.

"Alex…" She murmurs again. What was he going to say? She needs to know at the same time that she has a feeling she won't want to hear it. He doesn't go on. She abruptly wishes she'd taken the bottle with her. "Alex, finish the sentence."

He leans in and places a chaste kiss just at the corner of her lips. "I'd better go. Goodnight, love."

Abruptly annoyed with how he seems to be brushing her off, she calls after him. "Do you want a fight with my papa? Is that it?" He pauses just as he reaches the door, turning back to her. She goes on. "Because I could let you start one, but I still don't know what would come next, you know."

"Of course I don't… I'm just not sure how else this could end."

"I think there are plenty of ways, and they all involve the two of you getting over yourselves…"

* * *

><p>The original plan is to go tell his sister he's sorry. She's been avoiding him ever since the argument she'd had with their papa and he's not sure how long he can take it. He'd expected her to be angry. He'd seen her angry. He'd even been on the receiving end of her anger, whenever he did something stupid or got her worried. He could take her being angry.<p>

It's the silence that is killing him. The fact that she won't even look at him. He needs her to understand he didn't mean any harm. He just wanted to help. He loves his sister to bits and he's just worried about her and now he'd had a nightmare and it's been ages since she'd sung to him. Maybe, if he says sorry and means it – which he truly would – and then asks nicely…

The door to her cabin is open and the dim, flickering light of a lantern or two spills out into the hallway; she's definitely in there. Good. Oh. But wait. Who's that in the doorway now? Alex. And he doesn't look happy as he stops short and then spins around. Emily's – not yelling at him, but her voice is certainly raised. Alex disappears back into the room again, his own voice raising a bit. They're having a row, then. Not so good. Well, maybe good, them fighting, but not good timing if Joshy wants to apologize. He'd best wait till morning for that, maybe. He doesn't like the idea even half as much, but if he goes for Ms. Gibbs she'll sing to him and all will be well enough. He does like Ms. Gibbs. She's nice, and never yells at him like Emily occasionally does.

He turns around to head back up above decks, but pauses as something else catches his eye. Emily's is not the only room occupied in this corridor – down at the very end, there's another dim light spilling out from beneath a closed door. Innocent curiosity getting the better of him – as it sometimes does – he tiptoes away from Emily's room and further down the corridor.

He's startled a little by the soft snoring that reaches his ears, but it's only the crewmen Emily had assigned to guard the door. This is the room housing the Company men that Emily had been working on. Snorting at the sleeping, half useless guard, Joshy moves in further when he hears voices.

_Curiosity killed the cat. _Emily's voice scolds him in his mind.

But then she was one to talk when it came to finding trouble, wasn't she. How many times had she been thrown in a cell now? And he'd been the one to get her out that last time! Shaking his head, he tiptoes right up to the door, gets down to press his ear to the crack beneath it, and listens.

"…just what do you think she plans to do with us in the end, Connelly?" That must be Captain Andrews if his commanding tone is anything to go by.

"I'm sure I don't know, sir." Another voice – younger? It cracks a little. Connelly, whoever he is.

"I do. She's a pirate, boy, we all know what pirates do best. Once our usefulness has run its course, as I fear it soon will, she'll throw us all overboard as she intended to do in the beginning. _All of us_. You're a fool if you think yourself special."

Wait. Emily – she was going to kill them? Like that? His sister would never. Would she?

"I'm special enough that she hasn't killed us yet! Sir, if you give me more time, I could try to persuade her to just let us go! I think, just maybe, she'd listen!"

"And if she doesn't?"

There's a long bout of silence. Joshy's mind is racing now.

"Then… then we'll try it your way, I suppose, sir. What choice will we have? Either way, sir. You'll have to allow me to… I'll need to get closer to her. I don't think she trusts me that well now, not yet."

"Yes, yes, I know. I suppose, in any case, we shall have to come up with a plan to get her thinking you're becoming a little the rogue yourself."

"How shall we do that, sir?"

But Joshy doesn't stick around long enough to hear the rest of the conversation. He pulls away, gets to his feet, tip toes his way back past the still snoring guard, and scrambles the rest of the way down to Emily's room. It no longer matters so much that she's angry at him. She'll want to hear this. She'll _need _to hear this. This could be _bad_.

Alex is halfway shouting as Joshy makes it to the open doorway. "…perhaps you'd best try lookin in the mirror if you think I'm the one needin to get over meself, woman!" Alex come storming out of the room, muttering. "Bloody, drunken…unbelievable!" He stalks off down the hallway, not even glancing in Joshy's direction.

Definitely not the best time for Joshy to be approaching his sister. But he's not sure this can wait for too long. Too worried to care about what mood his sister will be in, he barrels forward into her cabin. "Emmy! Oh, Emmy, you'll never believe what I've just heard!" He shoots across the room to where she's curled up in the window seat, face buried in her hands.

"Not now, Joshy." She tries to dismiss him, sounding more weary than angry.

"But Emmy, I just heard…"

"Joshy, please, whatever it is I'm sure it can wait until morning." She still won't look at him as she stands and makes her way over to her bed.

"No, but Emmy, I don't think it can, 'cause you see, it was Captain Andrews I heard, and…" He chases after her.

"Andrews?" Now she looks at him, but she's almost scowling. "I thought I told you to stay away from that room, how did you get past…"

"I was – I mean, I came looking for you, but I… Oh, Emmy, it's not important, really, but what they were talking about…"

"I think you disregarding just about everything I tell you hear lately is very important," the almost-scowl briefly becomes a real scowl, "but fortunately for you, I'm too tired to talk about it tonight." She begins working her hair out of its braid, obviously getting ready for bed.

"But… but…"

"And what were you coming to find me for anyway?"

He looks down. "I had a nightmare. I was going to ask if you'd sing to me. It seems like forever since you've sung to me. Please, Emmy." He's not even sure what the please is for. _Please will you sing to me? Please will you listen to me? Please, please will you stop being upset with me?_

She opens her mouth and he knows his sister. She won't say no. She never says no when he asks her to sing to him. She won't start now. Will she? She sighs, though, shaking her head. "Not tonight." She says at length.

He pauses, biting his lip. "Emmy. I was going to tell you. I'm sorry for – I'm sorry. I'm just sorry."

The scowl is back now. "Oh, of course you're sorry. Now that you managed to ruin everything proper when you don't understand anything half as bloody well as I'm sure you think you do. You're just like your mother, thinking you know everything that's best. Did I ever tell you how much I hated her for that?"

His very worst fear is realized in that one sentence. Does – does she hate him too? Holding back tears now, he nods slowly. "I'll – I'll just go get Ms. Gibbs. She-she'll… Good-good night, Emmy." He turns, already trembling with the childish tears that want so badly to spill down his cheeks. He knows he won't be able to hold them back.

"Oh." Emily calls slowly, her voice growing softer. "Oh, Joshy, wait, I didn't…" He hears her get to her feet, make her way towards him.

But it's too late. She'd already said, and it's echoing over in his mind. He breaks into a run as the first sobs wrack his shoulders. They don't stop until long after Ms. Gibbs finds him curled up and hiding behind some barrels on deck a short time later.

* * *

><p>She lounges in bed far longer than she normally would the next morning, if for no other reason than because no one comes to wake her and she doesn't want to deal with – things. She knows exactly what had managed to bring her brother to tears the night before but has no idea how to fix it. She hadn't meant that she hated him. But she should've guessed he might take it that way.<p>

She can't hide forever, though, and besides, she begins to worry vaguely when Jo doesn't come to drag her out of bed. The older woman is usually the first in line to do so. Unless she's still sleeping, which is possible considering Emily had left her with that bottle. Dragging herself out of bed and dressing in plain vest and shirt instead of bothering with her corset, she forces herself to make the trek up above decks, squinting into the morning sun.

She doesn't see Jo. So that might explain that then. She doesn't see her brother anywhere either. Then again, he'll be doing his chores with the other cabin boy, so there's that explained too. She does see Alex, because he's making a beeline for her, but she's not half as worried about him. Even if he does still look rather cross.

"I should've just stayed in bed if that look is anything to go by." She announces irritably as he walks up.

His eyes are narrowed. "Well, considering the fact that ye could probably sleep for the next fortnight and still be just as much a raging bit…"

Shocked at what he's about to say, she balls a fist before he can even finish the word, sending it slamming into his shoulder on pure impulse. He staggers back, clutching the shoulder and swearing through snorts of laughter, much to her confusion. She shakes her head at him, putting her hands on her hips. "Alex Sparrow, you're either perfectly daft, or you have a death wish. Sometimes I don't know which."

"Just daft, if one 'as to be picked." He straightens up some, still clutching his shoulder. "But now we both feel better, aye?"

She eyes him for a moment, until a smile begins tugging at the corners of her lips. He has a point. "Idiot."

He rolls his shoulder, his tone turning to an almost whine. "S'not fair. Ye're stronger than ye look."

She rolls her eyes. "Oh, don't be such a _woman_. You'll be fine." But they lock eyes and hers saysorry, for far more than just the some-what-deserved-punch.

"Love ye, too." His tone is sarcastic, but his eyes reply that she's always forgiven. It's extraordinarily dysfunctional, whatever this is they have, but they're learning to live with each other's quirks, slow but sure.

She rolls her eyes now before turning to sweep over the deck before them again. "So, any idea where Jo is? She's usually the first to come drag me out of bed after a night like the last."

"Down in the galley I think, peelin potatoes or somethin like that. Looked rather, erm, disgruntled when I saw 'er, ye ask me. Can't fathom why. Ye didn't manage to start up with 'er, too, did ye?" He's only half serious.

"Oh, shut it. I don't actually fight with everyone."

"All evidence, darling."

She only glares playfully as she slips past him, heading for the galley.

…

She barely makes it two steps into the room before an apple sails past her head, hitting the wall behind her so hard it bounces right off and nearly hits her even after she dodged it the first time. Eyes wide, she watches it roll back across the galley and come to a halt… just at Jo's feet. Jo, who is scowling with both hands placed firmly on her hips.

"Definitely should've stayed in bed." Emily grumbles.

"I hope you never have children."

A pause as Emily processes that. "So do I, if I'm honest. We all know I'd make a rotten mother. Care to elaborate on what brought you to this conclusion?"

"Up until last night, I'd have said you'd surprise yourself. You'd make a wonderful mother if it weren't for that temper of yours."

"So… Joshy really did go running to you, then?"

"No, it's far worse than that. He hid himself. Tucked himself away nice and neat so no one could see him, just like _you _would if you felt like crying. And they were quiet little sobs, too. I almost walked right past. Now, children cry when they want attention or when their hurt, throw tantrums. But crying silently? That means they just can't stop. I don't know what you said to him, but he really fell to pieces, Peg."

"I didn't say… I mean, I know what he was…but I didn't mean…" Emily tries to form a sentence, but it proves harder than normal with the glare Jo's sending her way. The crew likes little Joshy, but none hold soft spots for him quite like the one Jo's developed.

Jo relaxes a fraction, rolling her eyes. "Oh, stop your stuttering."

"I said… it's not important what I said. He just took it wrong, that's all. I was tired and Alex and I had just got done going at each other like we do sometimes."

"Yes, he mentioned that. Honestly, you two are worse than a married couple!"

"…and then Joshy comes in, going on about, well, I don't know. Something to do with Andrews, I suppose I'll have to ask him if he'll even talk to me long enough. But the point is I didn't mean it!"

Jo eyes her a moment, then shakes her head, going back to the apples she'd been peeling. "Of course you didn't. I know you'd never hurt him on purpose, but goddess! You should've seen the boy last night, Peg. It would've been enough to break anyone's heart."

* * *

><p>He'd break his poor mother's heart, Riley thinks, if she knew what he was all mixed up in on account of her. She's worth it, of course, twenty times over. But she wouldn't have wanted this; for him to be stuck where he is. Though, in honesty, this <em>is <em>better than begging on the streets.

He's still not sure which side to choose, or if either side is really worth choosing. On the one hand, Captain Turner is a pirate. He doesn't know what she wants ultimately, but whatever it is, it can't be good. On the other, Captain Andrews… is beginning to sound no better than her. The only difference, Riley is beginning to notice slowly, is that his captain wears a uniform – so no one questions him. Maybe it will be better if he can just convince Miss Emily to let him (and Captain Andrews and Peter) go. That way he won't have to choose. Andrews will no doubt go off and tell the Admiral everything they'd learned about Miss Emily, but that won't have to be Riley's problem. Right?

Right?

Of course, right.

So – why doesn't it sit quite right with him? Andrews seems to think that if Miss Emily's mouth is open, she's lying; it's very possible Riley can't trust a thing she says. But that explanation just doesn't work for him. She can't be doing all of this for no good reason, and the Admiral really is obsessed with her, everyone knows that. There has to be at least some truth to what she's told him. If not then none of this makes any sense.

"Riley?" Her voice is soft, almost crooning, pulling him out of his reverie.

Unfortunately, he can't worry about all the rest of it now. Now, he just needs to find some way to make her trust him. Or, at least to make her think he's no longer so fond of his captain and the uniform he still wears. "Yes. I'm sorry, Miss Emily. I was – just, lost in thought."

They are up on deck and she's leaning back against the rail, elbows propped up on it behind her. Captain Andrews says she's quite the seductress, but Riley wonders sometimes if she has any idea just how beautiful she is. "You really must stop apologizing, Riley. You do like to get lost in your own head, don't you?"

He can feel a light blush creep up to color his cheeks. "Captain's tried to work it out of me, but I'm afraid I've always had that problem, daydreaming."

"There's nothing wrong with a little imagination." She replies, turning curious now. "Where do you go? When you 'get lost', where are you?"

Oh, there are so very many answers to that, but he suddenly has a very good idea of which one to use. It's not a very gentlemanly way to go about this, but then again, that was kind of the point. "I'm home." He says after a moment, trying to choose his words. "With this – this friend. A girl named Sarah."

She nods, softening a touch. "Where every young sailor wishes to be, I expect. In the arms of a woman."

He blushes again. This isn't the sort of thing – there is a girl named Sarah. And he does miss her terribly. But he'd only very recently started having _those _sorts of thoughts. He quietly asks her forgiveness for what he's about to tell Miss Emily, and he abruptly realizes his mother's isn't the only heart he'd be breaking. "Well. Yes, I suppose. But…"

"Oh. It's always fun when there's a 'but…' involved." Miss Emily's smirking now.

He returns it, trying to convey a confidence he doesn't feel. "It's just… lately wishing to be in her arms – she has a tendency to become, well. To become you, Miss Emily." Her eyebrows raise; he pulls back, sheepish now. "Forgive me, that was – far too forward."

She's grinning when he chances a glance back up at her. "Not at all, my dear Riley. I just can't help but wonder what your captain would think if he knew you were dreaming about _me_."

Riley lets out a breath and tries to sound a little harder. "Who – who I dream about is none of his business. We're not on his ship anymore. We're on _yours." _He hopes he's being believable. He's half telling the truth, if he's honest, so maybe that helps. Squaring his shoulders, he grows very bold indeed as he goes on. "Captain Andrew's isn't much of a captain anymore, is he? I'm – I'm certainly not sure I'd call him mine."

"Really now?" She looks almost impressed. "Well. There's hope for you then, at least, that's good to know." A pause as she pulls him a little closer, and he braces himself against the rail on either side of her. She looks up at him, snaking her arms up to rest her hands on his shoulders. "Tell me, my dear Riley. You were so helpful to me the last time. Would you be willing to keep making nice with Andrew's, just for me?" She winks and leans up to place a kiss on his cheek, just at the corner of his lips. "There might be a proper reward in it for you this time, if you could."

A proper reward. Just what he'd been looking for. He brings a hesitant hand up to brush back a stray strand of her hair. "Aye, Captain. I think I could certainly come up with something for you.

* * *

><p><em><strong>There you go; this one's extra-long to make up for the next chapter, which is on the shorter side. Thanks for reading. :)<strong>_


	56. Perspective

Lizzie remembers _before_. Sometimes so clearly, it sends a pain shooting through the empty cavity where her heart should be.

She remembers being Elizabeth. Miss Swan. She remembers ball gowns and tea time, sitting with other girls, her friends, as they chatter and gossip about silly things, so carefree. She remembers James Norrington. She remembers being friends with one of his younger sisters; remembers thinking maybe it wouldn't be so bad, to be Mrs. Norrington, to have all these other sisters and brothers and never want for anything, even if she didn't truly love him. She remembers his attempts at courting her a bit (and sometimes, just sometimes, she wishes she had let him, because she might very well have been better off and because if she had maybe he wouldn't have ended up dead.)

And then she remembers her husband. No, not even her husband, just Will. Before he was anything else. Strong and handsome and gentle, always so gentle with her. The love that was always so clear in his eyes. And it was clear. Love – he'd loved her. Some small part of clings to that, never stops clinging to that. It had been there once, that love, for both of them. He'd loved her and she'd loved him and it was good at one point, it was, truly. Right?

…

She remembers things changing, well, just beginning to, for the better at first. They had their little adventure with Barbossa and the _Pearl _and Jack and that would've been enough for her in the end. She had her pirate and he was also a very good man and her father had given his blessing, albeit reluctantly, but that was alright. Or she thought it was. But maybe it wasn't very alright, she realizes, because she also remembers Will growing a little distant, a little restless. Remembers him trying to talk to her, to tell her…but she hadn't entirely, really _listened_.

She understands now, of course. She'd gotten her adventure and been nearly killed and had been more than satisfied, but for him the opposite had been true. He wanted to be out at sea again. But he would never have left her, she knows this, so he dropped it after a while and gave every appearance of being all hers again and that might've been the end of it.

…

Then came the wedding. Pouring rain and Will in chains. Lord Beckett demanding Jack's compass be found. Will leaving, left with no choice. And there they were again. Off on another adventure, complete with a massive, slimy sea-squid and a crew full of fish-men. All to save Jack. And then there was the kiss. But it had meant nothing. She meant to tell him that. She should've. But no, it was hers to deal with, her burden.

'_It wasn't your burden to bear._'

'_But I did bear it…_'

…

She remembers the weeks that followed, the month that saw things changing again. But not for the better this time. No, not for the better. They talked so little, all that time… He thought she'd given her heart to someone else. The epitome of irony.

…

A battle in the pouring rain.

'_Marry me!'_

'_I don't think now is the best time!'_

'_Now may be the _only _time!'_

Barbossa, fighting off the fish men now, trying to spit out the words.

'_Oh, just kiss!"_

And they do.

…

She's dying, slumped against those steps, a sword in her chest, and she can't…can't think…can't breathe…can't speak…just can't. And then she's in Will's lap. And he sounds panicked as his shaky hands run through her soaked, light brown locks, and he's murmuring to her, begging her to stay with him and _Will, I'm dying, and I love you so much, and it's just not fair!_

…

Jack…that's Jack. And in his hand…what's in his hand? He's at her side now. Where did Jones go? Maybe it doesn't matter anymore. Will presses something into her hand, something sharp. On the deck, it's the heart.

_Stab the heart. Part of the crew. Part of the ship._

_Part of the crew._

They help her, Will and Jack, she doesn't have the strength on her own. All goes dark…

…

She's under water when she comes to. Under water, the whole ships under water. But she can breathe. Wait. No. She's just not breathing. She doesn't need to.

Her chest. There's a scar. She can feel it. And it makes sense. The heart. Jack had had the heart and he'd given to her. And she'd died and Jones was already gone now but she knows just who else is going to pay for it all.

…

The roar of the cannons is music to all their ears. Beckett's ship is obliterated. It's a truly beautiful thing, in its way.

…

They have that one day. She'll cry, almost certainly. But later. Right now they have just that one day. And she loves him and he loves her and they are married, she doesn't care what anyone else might try to argue.

She gives him her heart. It was always his. It makes sense. He promises.

'_I love you, Will. So very much.'_

'_And I love you, my Elizabeth.'_

…

And then came Emily. Her pretty little Emily. Their baby, hers and Wills. She has his eyes.

Lizzie remembers this too. Remembers the tears that came with the realization; she can't keep the baby. A ship is no place for a baby. Especially this ship. No. It was all up to Will from here.

All up to Will.

Tears. She remembers tears. How long has it been since she allowed herself tears now? Now that, she can't remember.

…

Bootstrap finds him in a tavern with Jack Sparrow, she learns later. Will had been scarcely more equipped to handle a baby than her, Bill says.

Lizzie thinks he never tried very hard, it seems, because look how their little Emily turned out.

…

Letters. She writes as often as she can, although her letters are never as long as his, but that's just because he tells her everything about Emily. He tells her about when their little girl first starts to walk and what her first word was (_please_, apparently, for what reason neither of them knows).

He never mentions _Her_.

…

He sends her gifts. Things crafted in the small port he's living in now. Books. And then a ring. The ring. A very plain gold band, but that's alright, he says he'd made it. And for a moment in time, just a moment, it seems like maybe, just maybe, they can be ok this way.

…

He mentions nightmares, nights spent sleepless. She wonders, a little later, if that's what possessed him to start up with the rum. Not that that makes a good excuse.

…

She remembers seeing him again. Out at sea, on the _Pearl_, fitting in perhaps too well, but she didn't care because he was there and she hugs him and kisses him and for a moment all is bliss.

And then there's Emily. The pretty little dark haired five year old with the big, brown doe eyes. And she looks like him.

'_Mother?'_

'_Yes, dear.'_

…

It's Emily that mentions 'Miss Jade'. Elizabeth (and she was still Elizabeth, then)…she doesn't want to. But she jumps to conclusions. Because Will hadn't mentioned her. If he'd found someone else to help with Emily, that was fine. But why hadn't he written about it?

Emily tells her all about it, though. About the things 'Miss Jade' says, the way she tells Emily how to act and the way she seems awful close to Will, even from a five-year-olds perspective.

Elizabeth asks Will, later, when their alone. He makes it seem all very innocent, harmless. She allows herself to believe him. Because she still loves him so much, and she's so far away and lonely all the time, so maybe she's paranoid. Maybe…

…

Then her goddess comes for her one day, so sad. And it should be exciting, the news that Elizabeth might be freed. But her goddess gives her the truth, just the truth.

The man she's allowed to watch for a moment is a stranger. And she wants to hope that he'll stay true, but really, that's the moment she begins to mourn for what once was. She knows now, she'll never have that back again.

…

The dream. She'll never forget that dream. The one where her Will turns into the stranger, the rum-soaked-wobbly-legged-_pirate_ that she did not marry, and she realizes he's done _it_, but hopes that she's wrong.

She cries the first few times. Then, she just gets angry.

…

She remembers him telling her about Emily being taken. Remembers everything about that conversation, from the drink he smelled of to the realization that he and _Jade_ really had…really would…

He's damned her forever.

…

Lizzie remembers the other dream too, this one even stranger, seeing what he sees and feeling what he feels. She understands a little better for it. She does. But it only helps so much, and he's gone and crawled into a bottle, and it makes her sick. He's not her Will anymore.

Where did her Will go?

…

They take Emily back. Of course they do. There was never any other option. She's not herself; she's too thin and doesn't smile and clings to her father tightly, refusing to leave his side.

Elizabeth sinks the _Revenge_. The two large triple guns blast _boom boom boom _through the already crippled ship and it sinks in flames and she smiles, because they'd had it coming.

…

'_What's she like…Jade? Is she beautiful?'_

'_Yes. Yes, she's very pretty.'_

'_And Emily…is she good to Emily?'_

He tells her yes. Lizzie remembers…she'd hoped, maybe, that would help. But it didn't. It made it worse. How dare he allow another woman to care for the daughter _Elizabeth _had labored to give him? She can't bear the thought.

'_Do you love her?'_

Such stuttering. No straight answer.

'_I don't know if I do…she thinks you're dead…lost to the sea.'_

Lizzie _is _the sea.

It's impulsive of her, her cursing him. But she's angry and wants to hurt him back somehow so she does it and sends him off and Bootstrap comes back and says Will had explained things to Jade and that's the end of it.

(Except Lizzie now knows it wasn't because she has Jade, _Mrs_. Jade _Turner, _and had even met the spitfire little whelp that was her son, his son, _their son_. She should've kept the boy too, but some part of her just couldn't…wouldn't allow…she's spent much time since trying to beat that small, stubborn part back into submission.)

…

She remembers her one day on land, burying her heart along with all other traces of Will that had been in her cabin. And she remembers, oh so very, very clearly, the moment that Elizabeth Swan finally and truly died.

…

She remembers it all, including her goddess abandoning her (or perhaps it's more that she'd given up on her goddess, but she's not concerned with those details by now). All she knows is that years had passed, several of them, and she'd felt nothing of the goddesses presence. Until the day she could feel her own daughter on the edge of death and begged, with everything she had left in her, for Calypso to spare Emily.

Why? She doesn't understand. Any of it. Why did she still care what happened to Emily, why did Calypso see fit to reassure her that Emily would be fine? Just…why?

…

She's only half aware of herself as she gives the orders that lead up to her standing before a very grown up Emily Turner.

'_My. You have grown, haven't you?'_

'_Mother.'_ There's an edge to Emily's voice. _'What can I do for you?'_

The young man just behind her; tall, with dark hair rebellious long, and goddess, there can be no doubt of who he is. He even holds himself a little like Jack. Who else could he belong to? He hovers near Emily in a way that is, unmistakably, protective.

Emily. If she could still manage to care, Lizzie imagines she might be stuck somewhere between pride and vague horror at where her little girl has ended up. Because she is, undoubtedly, a pirate. But she's done well for herself to that end. The leg, though. She does manage to feel thoroughly curious about the leg.

'_I'm looking for something.' _The compass._ 'I've reason to believe you have it.'_

'_What could I possibly have that you would need?'_

She denies having it. Lizzie steps forward, casually intimidating, and Emily's young man doesn't like this. His hand flies to his sword…and Emily's hand flies up to hover over his, and there's a by now _very _familiar spark of jealousy accompanied by the realization that the pair are more than friends. But she ignores it because this could prove useful. Her daughter had the potential to become a problem and Lizzie's learned that problems are best dealt with when you have a little leverage to work with in the dealing with of them.

Emily goes on to insist that she doesn't have the compass, and she even sounds like her father. It's strange, really, because the boy – Emily's half-brother, she connects for the first time – seemed to have been more his mother's son.

She has a feeling Emily is lying. But that small part of her, that little voice, it just won't go away, won't shut up. She can't bring herself to do anything about it, although she very much so could.

She leaves empty handed.

…

But it got her nowhere. Calypso begins giving her visions of Emily, almost as though the goddess is still inside Lizzie's head. As though She can tell that maybe, just maybe, _Elizabeth_ wasn't so easy to kill.

Not that Lizzie doesn't continue to try. That little voice. Sometimes, if she ignores it thoroughly enough, it does get quieter. But the fact remains that some small part of her does not want to have some kind of stand-off with her daughter. And certainly, she does not want to end up killing the girl.

But she can't let anyone get to her heart. She's come too far now…too much has happened…she's too far gone. She's afraid of death. Possibly even more so than the men who end up as her crew. She doesn't want to kill her daughter. But it's a cruel, twisted world they're living in, and she will do what she must.

…

The visions change up. She doesn't dream of fighting Emily, she just sees her…being a captain, finding trouble, being with her man – her Alex, taking care of her brother.

This doesn't do much in the way of helping either, well, not in the way her goddess seems to be hoping for, that is. That small, quiet voice…it has to _go away_! Lizzie's fate has already been sealed. There's no point. Right?

Right?

…

But it won't go away. In fact, when her goddess changes things up a little again, starts showing her a different Emily, this lady pirate called _Peg_, that little, quiet voice gets louder and stronger. Because Peg has Elizabeth's spirit – and her father's just about everything else.

And then Emily takes up drinking, and that voice becomes so much more persistent, so much _louder_, it's almost enough to…

…

Lizzie feels she's going truly insane now, but ignores the voice with a cold resolve. Emily Turner is going to give up that compass. Because if she gets her hands on the heart, she will die if that's what it takes for Lizzie to retrieve it.

…

(But the fact remains that the woman she once was still exists somewhere within her, and that means that nothing that's about to happen will be even remotely that simple).

* * *

><p><em><strong>Surprise! A whole, long-overdue chapter devoted to this fictions namesake. And I mean, loooooong overdue. I know it's a little short, but hey I updated twice in one night here, so you're welcome. :) <strong>_

_**I know there's some funky-ish things going on with the tenses in this chapter. This is Elizabeth kind of working through things in her own head, so it's supposed to reflect her getting lost in her own memories.**_

_**Thanks for reading!**_


	57. French Girls and Magic Books

"Are you sure this'll take us to Adrienne?" Emily eyes the compass in Jo's hands.

"I had a dream last night… believe me. All I want right now is a conversation with her." Jo opens the compass and seems to let out a breath when it's already fixed on a single direction.

It never manages to do that for Emily. "Am I allowed to ask what this dream involved?" She asks, unable to resist her own curiosity.

"You'd ask whether I said yes or not."

"But if you don't want to tell me..."

"I don't particularly."

Emily shrugs. "On the wheel then, Ms. Gibbs."

Jo's hazel eyes send her a clear thank you before she goes off to do just that.

...

"Both pistols, your sword, and two daggers." Jo raises an eyebrow as she watches Emily take out the mentioned items. "Bit much, maybe, don't you think?"

It's taken them only two days to find the _Queen Anne's Revenge_; the compass really had been leading them straight to it. It's coming up just over the horizon now, and Emily's decided she's not in the mood to take chances. Jo just thinks she's being a bit paranoid.

"When it comes to letting Adrienne Barbossa within reach of Alex?" Emily reaches down to strap the sheath for one of the daggers to her leg where it will be covered by her boot. "I see how his eyes still wander sometimes, even with me on his arm, and he can never resist flirting." She pauses, shaking her head. "_She _gets anywhere near him and I swear…"

Jo eyes the second dagger as Emily tucks it into a hidden pocket of her corset – added, presumably, for just this purpose. "Last I checked she wouldn't even have known to cock a pistol before trying to shoot it. She can't be that bad."

"When's the last time you've seen her?" Emily asks, scowling as she straps on her sword and tucks her two pistols into her belt as well. "Because last I did, she nearly ran me through with a sword. Granted I was half delirious from blood loss and barely able to walk at the time, but I won't be caught off guard if she ever tries that again."

Jo only shakes her head. "I'll believe it when I see it."

…

The funny thing is, she thinks she knows exactly how this will go. She remembers Adrienne being more the damsel in distress, the pompous little French girl traipsing through the jungle in her skirts and raising a sword only when Emily was obviously on the verge of collapsing anyway. She thinks she'll get to flaunt Alex and the fact that she's captain. She'll have to watch Jo's back, maybe, but that shouldn't be difficult and Jo'll have her little talk and get whatever it is she's looking for and that'll be that.

What actually happens is… not that simple, and certainly a bit stranger.

The encounter gets off to a normal enough start. Emily signals a greeting to the other ship, lets them know a talk is all the _Queen _is looking for. The formalities are taken care of quick and easy; a plank is set up connecting the two ships. A very nervous Jo is hiding up by the helm – armed, somewhat unusually, with a sword that Emily wasn't quite aware the older woman would know how to use. And that's about when any expectations get thrown out the window. Because Emily, it seems, forgot to take into account that it's been near on to two years now. And really, she should know better than anyone how much can change in all that time.

Adrienne Barbossa could very well be the captain of the other ship for all that the men on it are quick to get out of her way. She strolls across the plank with the usual, perfectly unnatural (at least in Emily's opinion) amount of grace. And somehow, even now, Emily feels no less inadequate than she did the last time she saw the other girl. Adrienne isn't wearing a dress, but the outfit she is wearing is still prettier and more elaborate than Emily would ever bother with; a full, finely embroidered corset beneath a very French blue frock coat, with the ruffles of a white chemise visible at the sleeves. There's also a hat. Wide brimmed and feathered, matching the color of her coat. And all that isn't even the worst part. No, the worst is the short sword resting comfortably at her hip. Oh dear.

Apparently she remains frozen in place a little too long for Alex's liking, because he strolls forward when she doesn't. "Adrienne."

"Alex."

There's a bit of a pause, during which Alex seems to give Adrienne (another) look over. "Is it possible ye've only grown more beautiful since the last time I saw ye?" And he really can't resist can he?

"Well, I suppose so if you feel the need to point it out." She matches his smile and seems to take the compliment as the invitation even Emily has to admit it sounds like; strolling forward, she reaches up and pulls Alex down to her level by his shirt, planting a kiss on one of his cheeks, then the othere. "Does that mean you missed me, ma chérie?"

And this is about when Emily remembers that she's not Emily anymore, she's Peg and Peg already wants to put a bullet in Adrienne's skull. But she decides to play this a little differently. Because, as always, though she sometimes wishes things could be different, they are pirates. Alex can do what he wants. Crossing her arms, she clears her throat.

Adrienne turns to her, looking amused. "Capitaine." She slips past Alex to greet Emily properly, her eyes sweeping over the deck of the _Queen _a bit before landing on its captain. "Très impressionnant. Your ship is lovely. I would enjoy hearing about how you came to possess it."

Emily strains to be as pleasant in her response. "That she is. Perhaps I'll tell you sometime." Something catches Emily's eye; a scar. Adrienne has a very visible scar, just on her jawbone. The kind one might receive from a knife or a sword. It's not much. But there's nothing ladylike about a scar in so prominent a place. It calms her a little, somehow. Adrienne Barbossa is not so perfect and proper as she had once pretended. "I'm afraid a friendly chat is not what we're here for now, however."

"As I'd already guessed." She glances back at Alex. "Time enough for that later, perhaps? In any case, I am here now. What can I do for you?"

_You can stay far, far away from Alex Sparrow. _But Emily doesn't even glance in Alex's direction. "You can promise to leave that blade of yours right where it is, first of all."

Brows raising, Adrienne glances down at the weapon in question. "You imply that I'll be needing it?"

Emily shakes her head. "I'm only trying to ensure that we can act civilized."

"We? Comme c'est intéressant. Now you have me very curious indeed. Very well, you have my word, for whatever it is worth to you."

It's not worth much at all, but Emily doesn't bother to question it. "Right then. Jo!" She calls up to the helm. "Best get this over with."

A long moment passes and then Jo slowly makes her way down from the helm, looking determined. Adrienne's reaction is instantaneous – her eyes widen as she begins muttering in rapid French, swearing fiercely if her tone is anything to go by.

Jo crosses her arms, and if she can understand the other woman, she doesn't look impressed. "It's nice to see you too, Addy."

Adrienne's hand shoots to her sword. Jo follows suit all too quickly. Alex steps forward, ready to come between the two women.

"Easy, now! Civilized! Adrienne, I would think you of all people could manage that!" Emily interjects quickly.

"Civil-…" Adrienne breaks off, apparently incredulous. "Capitaine, I would be doing you a favor if I cut off this traitorous slatterns head and threw it to the fish!"

"Yes, well, whatever else you think she is, she's also my first mate, so perhaps you'd be kind enough to give me an explanation before you do so? Both of you?" Neither moves, or even acknowledges that Emily spoke again. Tone turning more commanding, she tries again. "Jo. My cabin. That's an order. Or I can throw you both in my brig and you can work it out there."

Another long moment passes, and Jo finally nods. "Aye, Cap'n."

Adrienne still seems all too eager to draw her sword. Emily thinks she should've made the older woman give it up, but doing so now will only cause more unneeded conflict, so instead she just gestures for Alex and her papa to follow. Leading them all down to her cabin, she slips inside with Adrienne and Jo, leaving the two men outside the closed door just in case.

Leaning against her desk with her arms crossed, she eyes the two women as they stand glaring at each other. "Well?"

"You address her as though she is a friend." Adrienne finally spits out. "Did she not tell you why I would wish for nothing more than to see her dead? This sorcière cruelle stole away my fiancé and left me with nothing!"

"You act as though it was my intention to…" Jo stutters.

"Oh, do not act as though you didn't know! I told you why my mother insisted I marry him! But of course, you just could not resist, could you? And just when I thought I could learn to love him!"

"Oh, yes, I knew very well why she insisted." Anger seeps into Jo's voice now, fiery hot where Adrienne's is sharp and cold. "And I know why you went along with it, and it had nothing to do with love. Totty-headed little daughter of a fine French lady whore. You thought you could marry him and not have to worry about all the money your mother frittered away so carelessly!"

"Well, it hardly served you any better, running off with him, did it? Here we both are! What happened? Did you tire of him, was it too easy having your every need managed so well?"

"That's not – Addy, you don't understand. I didn't either. He was…" Jo turns to Emily abruptly. "It's all connected, Peg. I haven't said because I still don't know how or why, but it's all connected. My husband, Nathaniel, he wasn't interested in me or Addy. He was interested in our fathers. Addy didn't know anything about hers in the beginning; I suppose when he realized that he settled for me because I not only knew mine, but received letters from him."

Adrienne scoffs. "And why, pray tell, would an honest, wealthy merchants son have been interested in any of that?"

"That's what I'm trying to tell you, blast it all! He was working for the Admiral!"

This actually gives Adrienne pause. Her brows furrow in confusion. "The Admiral? The man in charge of the East India Company?"

Emily, silent up to this point as she doesn't want to get in the middle of whatever's going on, raises both brows. "You've heard of him?"

"En effet. Sort of, anyway. The capitaines of the last few ships we have raided have been raving about him."

"Well." Emily sighs. "Apparently this web he's trying so hard to catch me in is even more tangled that I thought. Good goddess, why must we always end up with more questions than answers?"

Jo, looking determined now, plants her hands on her hips in that way that suggests she's had enough and glares at Adrienne. "Now look here, arguing over what's done and over with isn't going to get us anywhere, and none of this seems to have anything to do with you anymore, anyway." She softens a touch. "I'm not sorry for following my heart, even if I was wrong, but I am sorry for all the trouble it seems to have caused you."

Adrienne relaxes a fraction. "I admit that is more than I would've expected." She shoots Jo another icy glare. "Although it changes nothing. I'll still have your head. But. Since you have so thoroughly piqued my interest." She turns to Emily. "I can only assume you did not go through the trouble of chasing my papa's ship down just for this."

"No. Actually, I'm not entirely sure I know why we went through the trouble of chasing you down. Jo hasn't yet see fit to explain that to me either."

Jo shoots her an apologetic look. "Alex didn't like it. I was worried you wouldn't either."

Adrienne's face alights with realization. "Ah. Your books."

Jo glances at her and nods, a little sheepish. "My books."

* * *

><p>There are just two of them, but they are both thick, massive old tomes, bound in thick leather and near falling apart. Jo takes care with the one as she begins flipping through its pages, eyes sweeping quickly over each page as she looks for – something very specific, apparently.<p>

Emily comes up to peer just over the shorter woman's shoulder. The books are, oddly, in both Spanish and English, or at least, the one Jo's looking through is, but there are strange drawings coating the edges of every page. "What is all this?"

"Magic." She replies. "Very _old _magic."

"Magic?" Emily's brows furrow. "What do you mean, 'magic'?"

Jo pauses briefly at a page depicting a strange doll – or, rather, the stages of making one. "I mean _magic_. It's difficult to explain. There's much I don't understand. I'd only just got to the age where my mother could begin teaching me proper when she passed on."

"I don't understand. You mean to say your mother was some sort of witch?"

Jo shrugs. "I can think of no better description, but it goes a bit deeper than that. The ability to do what she did – what she said I could do, as well – was granted by our goddess." She pauses, turning to Emily. "She told me it was a gift granted to all those blessed by our goddess, in fact."

Emily snorts, shaking her head. "I think we'd know if I were capable of anything like that."

Jo shakes her head. "That's just the problem. You would know. Magic is a rather temperamental thing. It's all from the heart, triggered by emotion. Control is learned easy enough, but it does have to be learned. I've thought for some time now there should have been all manner of strange happenings around you with your temper."

"Well." Emily isn't quite sure what to do with this information. "Suppose it's a good thing I don't seem to have it then."

"Perhaps." Jo replies, with the air of someone who knows more than she's letting on. She turns back to the book. "Anyway, that's not what's important here."

Being rather clueless about all of this, Emily decides to allow the subject change. "I'm almost afraid to ask what is, then."

Jo begins flipping through the pages again. "If you're willing to keep a very, very open mind, I might be able to help with your mother."

"More open a mind than it takes to deal with my mother's existence in the first place?" Emily starts looking over the other book, curious.

"Point taken. And be careful with that! You've no idea how old these are."

Emily rolls her eyes as she takes her hands back and crosses her arms. "So what is it you think you can do?"

"I remember somewhere in one of these… where was it?" She sighs in frustration. "Oh, I can't remember. You'll have to give me time, it could take ages to go through them both. But if I'm right, somewhere in these books is a spell that… oh, how to explain?"

"Jo. Can you just spit it out?"

"It deals with the idea that there are two sides to every person. Good and evil, light and dark, that sort of thing. If done right, it's supposed to allow you to talk to the other side of yourself, the idea presumably being to turn evil back into good. It's not that simple of course, I know how it sounds. I'm really not sure of what actually happens, assuming it'll do anything at all. But I know you're still clinging to the hope that your mother still exists somewhere within that strange, undead snake woman. And – our goddess said we'd need your father to bring her back if that's possible. So…" She trails off, looking sheepish, as though this must sound very silly.

It takes Emily a moment, but the puzzle pieces begin to fit themselves together. "If we can cast this spell of yours, assuming of course there really is anything of my mother left, and then have my father there to talk to her if it works…" Hope. Does she dare? "What would we need to do?"

"I can't entirely remember. As I said, I'll need to look through these books. But Peg – there's one thing I do remember."

"I'm not going to like it, am I?"

Jo shakes her head. "This is a powerful spell. And powerful spells, well, most require particular items. Usually objects of value. If we want to be sure this will work, we'd need something of your mothers. Her most valuable possession."

Emily's shoulders slump as she leans back against her desk again. "Her heart. Oh goddess, that's what it's all about. Those awful dreams. I need the heart if I'm to fix this."

"How long until your mother's one day again?"

"Little more than a month, now."

For a moment they just stare at each other. Finally, Jo shakes her head, turning back to the desk with a determined air. "We'd best get to figuring this out then. I'll start looking through these books. I know it's in here somewhere." Emily pushes off the desk abruptly, crossing the room with determined strides. "Where are you going?"

"To talk to my papa. It's about time I explain all of this to him."

* * *

><p>"Funny she did not say anything about you, no?" That voice. Even her voice is the opposite of Emily's, high and chiming like tinkling bells where his little captain's is naturally an easy alto.<p>

He freezes a moment, caught off guard, but then slowly continues to tie off the rope he'd been working with. He turns to watch her stroll forward the last few steps across the deck, coming to stand a little too close for comfort, but he doesn't move away. "Beg pardon?"

"Emily – ah, pardonnez-moi. _Capitaine_ Turner said nothing of our little exchange earlier."

He's careful about choosing his next words. "Why would she 'ave?" He asks finally, trying to decide how to play this. Emily is still being stubborn, and apparently gets to spend her nights drinking and gambling with whoever's brave enough to sit with her. Although he's established that she can't get rid of him even if she tries… well, if she doesn't have to behave herself, why should he?

Adrienne eyes him, brows furrowing slightly. "I would have thought by now that you two…" He doesn't interject, holding back a smile, daring her to go on with his eyes. "Oh, do not give me that look. You know very well what I mean."

"And since when, pray tell, are you terribly concerned with Emily and what she 'as to say conernin me? Particularly after such time has passed."

She seems to think on that a moment, searching his eyes, until a smile tugs at her lips too. "I am not. Terribly concerned, that is."

"Good." He replies. "Because presently, neither am I." He reaches up to ghost a hand against her cheek, sweeping back a stray strand of her hair, noting with a vague curiosity the scar at her jaw. "I did, you know."

"Did what, ma chérie?"

"Miss ye."

The smile fully graces her lips now. "Would you like to see my papa's ship? I am certain he would not object to me showing it off."

Jo appears from below decks, carrying a rather large and very old book in her arms, just in time to watch Alex allow himself to be lead off by Adrienne. "Where do you think you're going?" She asks when it becomes obvious they're going to cross over to the other ship.

Adrienne rolls her eyes. Alex wants to feel guilty for all that Jo's tone is so overtly accusing, but he just holds up his hands, placating. "I have been offered a closer look at the lovely _Queen Anne's Revenge_ and seeing as said offer came from its captain's very own daughter I thought it would be rude to simply say 'no'."

Jo casts Adrienne a mild glare before turning it on Alex. "Cap'n won't be happy if she finds out where you've run off to."

"The captain is a spitfire little hellcat, albeit a seductive one, and will hunt down somethin else to be unhappy about if I myself give her nothing, so in honesty, I am doin the rest of ye a service." Jo's glare turns to a scowl, but she doesn't respond, probably because he's absolutely right. "'Sides, I'll be back before she even 'as time to notice."

Jo waves him off with the hand not still holding her book, scoffing. "Oh, it's your funeral then. Don't say I didn't warn you."

It really will be his funeral one of these times, probably, but then that's what makes rattling his little captain so entertaining. Besides, it's not as though he intends to do anything but talk with Adrienne. If Emily jumps to conclusions, that's her problem, not his.

* * *

><p>"No." He says it simply, as though she should have expected that to be his reply.<p>

She's pulled her papa aside below decks, in the currently empty space where the crew sleeps. He's seemed calm enough listening to all she has to tell him, even when she got into the stranger details involving her goddess. He seems no less calm now, and she's not sure she quite understands.

"No." She parrots stupidly. "What do you mean no? It can't work without you."

"Your mother hates my guts. Granted she has every reason to, but the last time I saw her, she kissed me, and then threw me off her main mast with a rope around my neck. I won't be doing that again, Emily."

"If this goes the way I'm hoping it will, that won't even be an option. Papa. I'm trying to tell you we can get mother _back_!"

"And I'm trying to tell you she threw _me _in the locker!" He replies with more vehemence, a fist slamming down on the nearest table and making her jump a bit. "Emily, you don't understand. That creature isn't my wife anymore, not your mother! You'd be doing us all, her included, a favor if you stopped looking for a way to bring her back and started looking for a way to-…" He breaks off abruptly, as though he's startled himself.

"To what?" Emily says, dangerous quiet as her blood begins to simmer. "To kill her? You and I both know there's only one way to do that and who's going to take her place, then? You? Because I must admit, that's pretty high on the list of things I will not be doing, I don't care how selfish of me it is."

There's a pause, long enough to be worrying, and then two pairs of identical eyes meet as his harden. "Alex would do it. The boy would do anything if you only asked him, if he thought he'd be sparing you somehow. Would solve quite a few problems in one way or another, wouldn't it?"

She knows Alex would, which is why she would never, ever ask him to do such a thing. She hates her papa for even suggesting it, though, because her mind instantly begins racing through any and all other alternatives – anyone else she could somehow trick into it, because anyone would be better than her Alex. She searches her papa's eyes a moment, then shakes her head. "You don't mean that."

He's quiet for a moment, debating with himself maybe. He reaches for his flask, perhaps just out of some odd habit because he doesn't actually drink from it. "No. I don't. But it got you thinking, didn't it? Ready to throw anyone else to the wolves as long as it isn't him. It can do that, love can."

She glares at him, her blood fully boiling now as a sick feeling settles in the pit of her stomach, because how _dare _he? "Don't you _dare_ do that. Using him against me as if I don't know…" Hot tears well up, threatening to spill over and before she can stop to think about what she's about to do her hand connects with her papa's cheek with a _slap _that momentarily fills the entire room. His flask falls from his hands as he stumbles back and stares at her with wide eyes. "You are a filthy, miserable _cur._ Sometimes I don't know why I went through the trouble of bringing you back!"

"I've wondered that very thing since you did." He replies, quiet and subdued as he rubs at his cheek. "All I seem to be good at anymore is mucking things up."

She stands and shakes and fights back the tears that she's miraculously managed to keep from spilling over so far. And she wants to keep hating him but just can't because how many times has she thought the same of herself? That all she seems to be best at is ruining anything good? She bends down to pick up the flask laying at her feet, and then slowly crosses the room to hand it to her papa. "I stole you back because you are my papa." She says quietly, feeling a bit like a little girl again as she looks up at him. "And because I believed all that time spent in the locker was more than punishment enough for anyone. I'm sorry. I suppose asking you to face mother again isn't much less cruel than the idea of asking Alex to take her place."

Her papa cups her cheek, his thumb brushing away the tear that had finally spilled and was sliding down it. "You truly believe it, don't you? That this could work?" She only nods. He presses a kiss to her forehead. "Good. Hope can be as powerful as love, a smart man – woman – never lets go of either, I think. I'll do whatever you say I need to."

Allowing herself to hold onto the vulnerable feeling of being no more than twelve again, just for a moment, she throws her arms around her papa. He seems startled, but after a moment returns the embrace, and he's a good man, has always been basically a good man, and maybe this can all work out. Just maybe…

…

She is not her papa. Nor is she her mother. She is Emily Turner and Emily Turner loves Alex Sparrow so much that the thought of losing him is enough to have her thinking up a list of anyone else that could take his place, even if she knows exactly what she'd be trying to trick them into.

He loves her and she loves him back. It's really very simple. Perhaps, she decides, with her mother's one day growing ever closer and the vision she'd had of him dying, it is high time she starts acting like it.

…

"Jo!" Emily near bounces across the deck, ignoring the many strange looks she earns from her crew, looping an arm around the older woman's as she comes up alongside her. "Do you have any idea where Alex is hiding? Because I swear I'm not angry at him for that little bit with Adrienne earlier and I have something to tell him."

The sun is beginning to sink below the horizon now, and Emily's scoured the entire ship, every nook, cranny, and crevice. Alex is nowhere to be found, but he must be on the ship somewhere, because where else would he be?

Jo raises an eyebrow at her, as if wondering if her captain's lost whatever marbles she'd had to begin with. "You're glowing, like a bride on the day she's to be wed! What's got into you?"

"Nothing. Well, actually, sort of something. I mean, it's just I've realized something, and I want Alex to be the first to hear what it is, but I can't find him, though he must be around here somewhere."

Jo looks away now, but Emily knows the looks she's got on. It's the hesitant, sort-of-scowl-sort-of-grimace the older woman gets when she sees trouble coming, a look entirely unique to Jo. Emily sighs, over-dramatic. "Oh dear. What could possibly be so bad as to have earned _that _look?"

"I know where Alex is."

"Alright, where?"

"You were off to talk to your father."

"Yes, and?"

"I came up on deck just in time to see him."

"Jo, if you don't just _tell me…_"

"He was with Adrienne." She finally gets out. "She was taking him over to the _Revenge_. Alex said just to show him the ship." She adds hastily.

Emily has to force herself not to jump to conclusions. They're friends. She can't stop him having friends, even if it is Adrienne (but goddess how she'd like to _strangle _the other woman). She takes a breath to keep herself steady. "Well, alright, how long's he been gone then?"

Another pause, another scowl-grimace. "Some hours now."

Whatever was left of her good mood is shattered entirely. She lets go of Jo's arm, glancing over at the other ship, much more subdued. "It's getting dark. I suppose…he'll be back soon." Because he has her now and she's very sober and going to tell him tonight and she refuses to give up just yet.

"Course he will." Jo reassures, with the air of someone who doesn't even half believe the words coming out of her own mouth.

"How far have you got, looking through those books of yours?"

"Not very. There's a lot here to work through, I'm afraid."

"Come down to my cabin." Emily loops an arm back around Jo's again. "We can work through them both at once."

"Alright." A pause as they begin making their way below. "He loves you, you know." Jo says, this time sounding more sincere. "If nothing else, he only went with her to make you jealous. He likes firing you up."

Emily relaxes a bit, or at least, tries to seem like she does. "I know. He'll be back soon."

She repeats that over in her head until the sun has set and the stars blink into existence and Jo shuts the book she's been looking through with some frustration and heads off to bed.

…

He's not coming back at all, is he? She thinks to herself, after a good hour of sitting curled up in the window seat, Shakespeare's _The Taming of the Shrew _in her hands, though she hasn't actually read a single page through. She sits for another ten minutes letting this realization sink in. She spends another five cursing him and thinking he's every inch his father's son and that she absolutely doesn't blame her own father for being so wary of him.

She contemplates doing several different things as she finally tosses the book Alex had bought here aside, everything from slipping over onto the other ship just so she really can strangle Adrienne to slipping down to her own hold for a bottle she can drink herself to sleep with. She does none of these things. Peg has a better plan in mind.

Giving him a taste of his own medicine. In the form of a certain charming little Navy boy.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Bits in French:<strong>_

**Très impressionnant. – Very impressive  
>Comme c'est intéressant. – How interesting.<br>…** **sorcière cruelle … - …cruel witch…**

_MiniCinnamon99, __**I've finally got in some of those answers you were looking for! And the next chapter will have even more of them! Not all of them. But definitely some!**_

_**I have a thing for magic. I'm not sure why. But it has an odd tendency to wiggle its way into anything good that I manage to write and this story kind of lends itself to it I think. I say odd, because I did not at all intend for the story to go this way until fairly recently, but now it's kind of writing itself. Don't you love it when a story does that?**_

_**Ok, I'm done babbling now. Thanks for reading! :)**_


	58. Questions and Unsettling Answers

"Good morning." Emily chirrups pleasantly when she sees Alex the next day.

He hesitates in approaching her, looking wary. Good. "Good morning, love." He replies.

"Jo's got what she needs now so we'll be on our way again."

"Right. Good, that's good." He stumbles over his words a bit, pauses a moment. "Where to?"

"Shipwreck again, if you think Cap'n Teague won't mind. I'm still a little worried of Joshy, and I'm not altogether sure he wants to be here anymore anyway. I figure we can decide what to do about things there."

"Nah, granddad won't mind. Think 'e likes ye, actually. So, erm, did Jo find what she was looking for in those old books?"

Emily raises her eyebrows. "Alex."

He pails a bit. "…yes?"

"We haven't talked. I didn't mention any books just now."

He says nothing for so long she almost wants to laugh. Has she really just managed to rob a Sparrow of his speech? "Talked to Jo." He comes out with finally. "She was grumbling about them."

"Mmhmm." She didn't really expect him to just give in. In fact, she's glad of it. She's enjoying his squirming. "No, she hasn't found what she was looking for just yet, but at least we know what we're looking for. It won't be too long."

He seems to gather some courage. "Ye know, ye're right, we haven't talked. What say we go do a bit of that now. In your cabin." Trying to act as though there's nothing wrong at all. He pulls her closer and she lets him, even leans up as though to steal a kiss.

"Mmm. Tempting." She stays close a moment, her lips hovering just inches from his. "But I wouldn't want my papa to think I was breaking our deal already." She pulls away as Alex's eyes dart up to glare at something behind her. She glances back to see Riley Connelly stepping up on deck with perfect timing. "Besides. I've got other…" She pauses as if looking for the right word, turning back to Alex. "Business to attend to."

His eyes narrow at Riley as he mutters. "Business my…"

"I'm sorry, what was that?"

"Nothing, love." His eyes finally come back to rest on her. "Off ye go then."

She sends him a smirk before spinning around and leaving him where he stands.

* * *

><p>Emily slips below with Riley. Before Alex has time to figure what exactly has just happened, an all too familiar auburn haired now-ten-year-old tears across the deck. "You have to tell Emily! She has to just let them go!"<p>

Alex stares down at the boy blankly. "What?"

"That – that midshipmen. Connelly! I heard him and Captain Andrews talking, I think if she doesn't let them go, they're going to try something terrible, but she won't listen to me!"

"Alright, alright, easy." Alex says. "When did ye 'ear this?"

"A few nights ago now."

"Well, why didn't ye tell yer sister?" Alex scowls.

"I tried! She wouldn't listen." Joshy says, brows furrowed and fists clenched in anger. "You two fought that night and I think she was drunk and she just got angry at me."

That doesn't sound like Emily, Alex thinks, but then that's why it bothers him, her drinking. She's not herself. He's beginning to hate the vile drink as much as she had not so long. Sighing, he pulls Joshy aside and takes a knee so he's on the boys level. "Tell me, then. What exactly did ye 'ear?"

* * *

><p>He hasn't been back in her cabin like this since that night they shared dinner. It's a little disconcerting this time around for some reason. Maybe because some part of him feels bad for all of this, the way he's trying to fool her. Which is, admittedly, ridiculous. Captain Andrew's is right. She's the enemy, the villain, the evil seductress. She's been trying to manipulate him. So…this is all just fair play? Right?<p>

"Riley." She's gone to sit in the window seat, and gestures with a single finger for him to come to her. He strolls forward with as much confidence as he can ever seem to muster around her, sitting at the other end of the seat. She looks amused – is it just him or is that how she _always _looks around him, like he really is just a plaything for her – and shifts around, closing the distance he'd deliberately put between them. "I thought we were moving past all that, now. I promise I won't bite." His hand is resting on the seat next to him; she covers it with her own, tiny but callused in the way any working man's would be.

"We were." He replies, staring down at her hand. "But – if you'll forgive my being so bold, Miss Emily, I don't get the feeling my chances of survival here would be terribly helped if that – that sailor of yours thinks I've…"

"His name's Alex." She supplies for him, her free hand coming up to lift his chin so he's facing her. "And as I told you before," her hand slips down to play at the neckline of his shirt a bit, "my crew listen to me. That includes him."

"I'm sure they do, Miss Emily, but," his own hand darts up to still hers, pulling it away a bit, "well, that's – that's not the reason I wanted to speak with you."

"Is there any chance I'll ever get it down to just 'Emily'?"

"That would be, uhm, too familiar. Disrespectful."

She pulls her hand out of his and leans in, placing it on his shoulder. "Oh, I could show you disrespectful, love. Wouldn't you like that?"

The pet name, that's new. He doesn't like this. "I, uhm, I'm not…" He stutters, helpless now. She's too close. He's never felt quite this way before; been too young yet perhaps, or was just too busy trying to survive. But now she's _too close_, smelling of rum and the sea in a way that's so intriguing (somehow enticing) for a woman, and before he can get anything else out… her lips are covering his and what can he do, what can he do? He should push her away but if he does she'll be angry won't she? And he can't have that, he really can't, survival here is precarious enough as is (at least if Andrews is to be believed, but Riley's really not sure who he can believe anymore).

She doesn't relent even when he doesn't exactly respond. In fact, the hand that had still been covering his now takes and guides it to rest on her waist, and she certainly knows what she's doing, doesn't she? Not that he's surprised. And then she guides it up – up – up until he feels the swell of… _oh_, and well, may God forgive him (never mind his mother and his poor Sarah), because it's all downhill from there.

"_Mmm, my dear, dear Riley, we'll make a pirate of you yet."_

* * *

><p>He paces the length of the corridor outside her (theirs, it was supposed to be <em>theirs <em>now) cabin, waiting for what feels like ages, hoping she'll emerge with Connelly (her precious _Riley_, that stupid whelp) in tow. But she doesn't. And it feels like ages. He doesn't even have to ask what they could be doing; he knows all the answers to that and it makes a rage the likes of which he has no comparison to boil up inside of him, making his blood simmer and his stomach tie itself in a sickening knot. He knows what this is. This is payback for what she thinks he did with Adrienne last night, and damn-it-all, can she make up her mind? If she wants a pirate, he'll give her a pirate, if not, she has only to tell him to… and now this! With _Riley!_ Alex isn't usually given to being so terribly cutthroat, but right now he wants nothing more than to gut that stupid midshipmen like a fish!

Light footsteps sound down the steps and Jo emerges, looking a little tired with circles beneath her eyes and her thick raven curls held back even more haphazardly than usual. A large old book is held to her chest with crossed arms. "Alex." She stops short, eyebrow raised. "What're you doing down here?"

He storms forward, pointing back at Emily's closed door, and he has to work not to shout. "She's been with _him_ for at least an hour now. A whole bloody hour!"

"Been with who? Alex, calm down."

"Connelly! You'd better do something!"

"Me?" She scowls irritably. "Well – why haven't you? I don't want in the middle of this!"

"Because if I go in there and find them… I'll kill him, Jo." He's not kidding. Something in his tone must tell Jo this, because her eyes widen and she nods slowly.

"Alright, alright. By the old gods, you two'll be the death of me." She huffs as she slips past him and down the corridor. "Cap'n!" She knocks on the door. "I've found what I was looking for!"

There's a pause, too long. Alex's fists clench so hard his nails dig into his palms.

"Cap'n!" Jo calls again, sounding a little more urgent.

"Coming!" Her voice finally calls out, followed promptly by the sound of her peg-legged gait. Finally she opens the door. Alex can just see her; her hair is loose and she's wearing only her shirt, untucked, and he's sorely tempted to go get her papa and tell the old man all about what a lovely little trollop his daughter is apparently becoming.

Jo's brows raise as she peers into the room beyond Emily, and Alex knows that little scowl-grimace. That look always means _very not good_. "Ah," she holds up the book still in her hands, "the spell. I've found it."

Emily nods. "Come on, then." She steps out of the way so Jo can enter her cabin. "And don't worry. Riley can keep a little secret or two. Can't you, love?"

There's a pause as Riley probably stutters his way through an affirmative answer, but Alex can't hear him. It's probably a good thing. _Can't you, love_? Has she lost her mind? Is she drunk? It's only late morning, probably not. For once, though, he almost hopes he's wrong and she is.

She peers out into the hallway, and oh, that _smirk. _"Hello Alex. Feeling alright? You don't look it."

"Fine." He grinds out. "I'm fine. Would ye mind terribly coming out 'ere a moment, Peg? There's somethin I think I need to clear up."

"Oh, I think everything's plenty clear already. You can come in if you like, though, you might like to hear what Jo has to say."

He wants to say yes. He wants to stroll right up and pull _his _little Captain Peg in for a kiss and beg her to stop this madness. But he's never felt this out of control and isn't sure what he'll do if he sees Connelly, isn't sure what he'll be able to _stop _himself doing. "I'll ask 'er later." He tries to force himself to relax, forces his fists to unclench. "I 'ope ye know what ye're doing, Cap'n."

She stands tall, crossing her arms defiantly. "I always know what I'm doing. That's why I'm captain, remember?"

He only shakes his head before stalking away.

* * *

><p><em>~an hour earlier~<em>

She can't do it.

She comes so close. She has Riley hook, line, and sinker, trailing kisses along bare skin and hands down to…well, do _things_ she knows Alex, at least, likes. And he hasn't protested, not really. Not that she blames him. He's probably never even been nearly this close to a girl before, and Peg's learning by now. She knows what men think when they see her, is learning to use this when it suits her purpose.

But maybe the Admiral was right. When it comes down to it, Emily has too big a heart. Be it because it's cruel enough as is, what she's trying to do to a good boy like Riley, or because that big heart of hers belongs so thoroughly to Alex, she just can't do it.

"Miss – Miss Emily?" Riley stutters, uncertain and breathless. He's laying back on her bed, down to nothing but his trousers. Still, the wide eyes and the way they are staying fixed resolutely on her face – he's a good boy. Not because it's all he knows, for certainly she's been trying to show him another way. He's good because – he just _is_. No ifs. No 'basically'. Not like with her papa or Alex, where certain things have to be excused.

She can't, and it's definitely because she's being cruel to Riley. This thought has really only just occurred to her somehow, and she's suddenly acutely aware of her own state of undress – the only things covering her own frame are her trousers and her leg brace. Feeling a little disgusted with herself, she backs away from the bed and turns away, snatching up what she hopes is her shirt and slipping it on.

"Miss Emily." His voice is steadier now, almost, maybe, a little worried? She feels him come up behind her.

"You're captain is absolutely right about me." She turns and crosses her arms, voice steady but soft. "And you're far from stupid, so you must know it. Why play my games?"

He looks startled, studying her a moment. "Because," he replies slowly, "my Captain isn't seeing the whole picture, I don't think."

Her eyes harden and she scowls. "And you think you are, is that it?"

"I think," he steps forward, cautious, reaching out a hand to brush ever so lightly against her cheek, a sad look in his eyes now, "that I see just a little more than he does because I understand."

She fights to keep up appearances. She is Peg. Captain Turner, not some damsel. "Understand what?"

"That unless you are standing where the Admiral and my Captain are, survival can be a precarious thing." His hand drops to clutch his other arm as he looks down. "I don't know how you got here, I just know this is where we stand now. Survival is what brought me onto Captain Andrews' ship, even though I'd heard things about the Company, awful things. So I can't begrudge you you're actions, Miss Emily. You're only doing what you think you have to, in the end," he pauses briefly, eyes rising hesitantly back up to meet hers, "and I understand that perfect. I can respect it."

She stares at him, into those kind eyes, and she hates him. She hates him because she thinks, given too much time, she could come to love him. Not as much or as little as she does Alex, because she's coming to realize that love doesn't have a quantity, it just is or it isn't, and therefore, perhaps, it's possible to love more than one person a certain way. It would be _different_, though, loving a boy like Riley, and she's half curious as to how. And she hates her own black guts for even thinking it and hates him even more for making her. Alex's voice echoes in her mind, _we are not our parents._ All evidence to the contrary.

"Why did you do this?" Riley asks, thankfully before any of her thoughts can spill out into the open. "Why did you bring me down here? Did you really want…"

She wants to hurt him somehow. It's petty, but she doesn't care. "Alex. He's got a bit of a wandering eye and I've only been trying to make him jealous enough for it to wander back to me."

But Riley doesn't look hurt at all. He nods calmly, as if he'd expected this answer. "In that case, I am at your service. Provided you can promise me he won't have my head for it."

She should say no. She should send him back off to his Captain so she can take a breath and think about all this logically. But Alex _is _still a problem. She eyes Riley up a bit. "Shirt off." She commands, all Peg now. He doesn't even question her, slipping said item of clothing back off, and she snatches it, tossing it aside. "Now." She backs him up a bit and pushes him to sit on the bed. "Listen carefully, and for the love of all that is perfectly _in_decent, try to stop blushing like a virgin on her wedding night."

* * *

><p>She expects it to be Alex when someone knocks on her door, so she's a little thrown off when she hears Jo's somewhat strained voice instead. It takes her a moment to decide what she wants to do. Should she tell Jo what's actually going on here?<p>

"Cap'n!" Jo calls out, a little more urgent than the first time.

"Coming." Emily calls back finally, deciding not to bother. Jo knows when not to ask questions. Pausing when she makes it to her door, she glances back at Riley and sends him a wink; this could be fun if he'll let it, and good boy or not, he's still got that mischievous glint that first caught her attention.

Jo looks a little out of sorts when Emily finally opens the door; her hair is even more unruly than usual and there are circles beneath her hazel eyes. Her eyebrows shoot up as she peers into the room and sees Riley, still quite shirtless and draped casually across Emily's bed. "Ah," she tears her eyes away to focus on Emily, apparently flustered, "the spell. I've found it."

"Come on, then." She steps out of the way so Jo can enter her cabin. "And don't worry. Riley can keep a little secret or two. Can't you, love?"

Impressively, he manages not to stutter, his reply coming smooth and easy. "I should think I'm getting rather good at it, in fact, Captain." The tone behind the word is what tops it off; he sounds part flirtatious as a lover, part respectful as though she really is his captain now. Oh, in another life, she really could have made a good pirate out of him.

Jo slips into the room, eyeing Riley with confusion, but says nothing as she sets the book in her arms down on the desk.

She knows he's outside – he's been pacing the length of the corridor for the past twenty minutes at least – so she peers her head out of her door. Alex's fists are clenched and his jaw is too, and his eyes are narrowed and glaring. She smirks. _Good. You just stand there and be angry over what's actually nothing for a while. Serves you right. _"Hello Alex. Feeling alright? You don't look it."

"Fine." He snaps, his voice lowering dangerously. "I'm fine. Would ye mind terribly coming out 'ere a moment, Peg? There's somethin I think I need to clear up."

She meets his eyes, hers hardening for a moment. "Oh, I think everything's plenty clear already. You can come in if you like, though," she adds, much more pleasant, "you might like to hear what Jo has to say."

"I'll ask 'er later." He's trying to relax, it appears; his fists unclench, although he's still glaring. "I 'ope ye know what ye're doing, Cap'n." He adds tightly.

She straightens up, crossing her arms defiantly. "I always know what I'm doing. That's why I'm captain, remember?"

He only shakes his head before stalking off. Her arms slowly drop back to her sides as she watches him go with the sinking feeling that this might very well mean war for the two of them.

* * *

><p>There's a problem. Of course there is. There always is. Hell would freeze over if they could ever, just once, have things be simple.<p>

Jo can't cast the spell on her own. To cast it on a normal human being requires two people to begin with; according to what Jo knows of these things (not half as much as her mother had, she admits, but she can get by), casting it on a being like Emily's mother would be nigh on to impossible. If they were to make this work, she'd need help, from more than just one person. And therein lies the real problem. The only other person Emily knows of with Calypso's blessing is Ana, and although she'd love nothing more than a good excuse to go visit the older woman – there is no guarantee that will be enough. And besides that, she has no desire to drag Ana into all of this.

Jo suggests that there's something off about all of this. The Admiral wanting Emily so badly, Emily's mother and the fact that their goddess had said they'd need her help, and even Calypso herself and the fact that she'd been forced to stop helping Emily and Jo.

"It's all connected." She insists with a vehemence. "It must be."

"How? If you have any – any theories, I'm listening, because I'm as confused as ever." Emily paces her cabin restlessly.

"I've no idea." Jo admits. "But I think… whatever this is, we're getting close. You might try asking our goddess for whatever answers she can give. I think that's the only way we'll ever get it all sorted."

…

She does just that. Lying in bed that night, she begs her goddess to give her the answer, to just tell her what she's missing. She tosses and turns for what could be hours, hoping to feel her goddesses presence – but she gets nothing. Not that that's surprising.

It takes some time, but finally, she falls into a restless sleep.

…

She dreams.

First it's her mother, in the vision where they tear across the deck of the _Dutchmen _with swords clashing, the gargoyle serpents atop her head writhing and hissing. Emily can feel it in that vision, the sword piercing her own heart. Her mother's voice, soft as it once was when she was still something close to human, '_I'm sorry.'_ But how does it really end? Does Emily really die?

The Admiral, standing stiffly before her as she holds a dagger to his manhood. _'…far more valuable than first glance would imply…not quite dead or alive…something in between.'_ Far more valuable. What did he mean, far more valuable? He could've been referring to her inability to be harmed, but that didn't seem right, she hadn't made it clear until just after that that she had no idea of what she was. He had to have been referring to something else. But what?

The conversation with Jo, talking about real magic. About the power being temperamental. _'I've thought for some time now there should have been all manner of strange happenings around you with your temper.'_ Jo had said. Strange happenings. Emily knows she has a temper, certainly she would've noticed. If this is a gift all those blessed by a goddess receive, why doesn't Emily have it? Or…or…the inkling of an idea plays at the edges of her clever mind.

Their goddess had been scolded for interfering so much, too much. Emily had figured that was because she'd been allowed to bring her father back. Surely it must upset some balance when those who truly pass start refusing to stay dead. But what if…

At some point a familiar scene fills her vision, and she starts at the feel of her goddess' presence, so strong after being near absent entirely for so long. If there is a moon it is obscured by dark clouds; the air is chilly and the ocean froths, lapping restless at the sandy shore Emily is now standing on. Emily shutters to think of what could bring such unrest to an ancient goddess.

"I think…I'm starting to understand." She says, looking around, hoping her goddess will appear. "I wasn't normal to begin with. You're blessing did more for me than it would've for Jo or anyone else."

Her goddess doesn't appear. The wind picks up a bit. Emily thinks, perhaps, this means she has her goddess worried. Which means she's getting close. This is confirmed in an instant; her goddesses presence turns a bit warning, a bit scolding.

"I do have this other gift, the magic. Don't I?" Her goddess is not happy at all. The clouds above thicken. The sea grows more restless. "But – but it's like Jo said. It's…stronger with me." She paces the sandy shore a bit as she works it out. "And I can't control my temper sometimes." She stops in her tracks, turning to face the raging sea spread out before her as her goddesses presence surrounds her, almost suffocating as she warns, outright demands Emily to just _drop it_. But Emily's nothing if not stubborn. "You've been holding it back." And now it makes perfect sense. "That's why you got into trouble for interfering. Because you've had to keep a closer eye on me, too close. But I don't understand." She's talking to a goddess, an ancient and very powerful being and she's pushing her luck and she knows it but she's had enough. "If you were going to risk getting into trouble over me why not use that time to show me how to work with this gift, why not teach me control? Surly there are any number of ways it could be useful if you'd only shown me…" Oh. Oh, Emily gets it. She gets it perfectly.

The chaos that's been building around her reaches a crescendo as lightening cracks and thunder rolls and the sea roils and froths and laps at Emily's feet, almost clawing, and the wind whips at her as rain begins pouring. But that's alright. Because Emily's angry now, too. Fists clenching, she shouts into the storm that is her goddess' rage. "You didn't want to show me, did you? You've been holding it back because you're…" The wind whips at her so furiously she is nearly blown right off her feet. "You're afraid of what this silly little mortal girl could do with it! You need us to need you down here, so if I could work all this out on my own…"

Lightning strikes right on the beach, so close that Emily feels the crackling heat of it and is thrown back from the force. Sprawled on her back in the wet sand, she remains conscious just long enough to see her goddess finally appear, glaring down at her…

And then, she knows nothing.

…

When she wakes, she comes to slowly, awareness returning to her one sense at a time. She feels wet, the sand warm beneath her now, the sun shining down bright on her face. She hears the tide coming in and birds cawing and the trees rustling pleasantly with a light breeze. Finally, she opens her eyes, squinting into the brightness, brows furrowed. Sitting up with some difficulty – she is stiff and sore from head to toe, her limbs protesting each movement irritably – she stares out to sea a moment. The waters are relatively calm, though still a little choppy, as though her goddess is only just worried now.

She climbs to her feet and looks around, a little disoriented. So – what exactly has just happened here?

A little ways further inland, a familiar little table appears beneath the trees, set up with tea and pastries just as it had been the first time Emily had been brought here. She makes her way over to it, a little wary. The chair pulls itself out. Emily sits for lack of anything better to do. She looks over the tea and crumpets set before her, scoffing, feeling irritable and reckless and somehow detached from this very strange reality. "Could do with something stronger." She grumbles, glaring at the teapot, but of course, it remains just a pot full of tea. Sighing, she begins fixing herself a cup of the warm liquid as she waits patiently for her goddess to appear, as that seems the next logical step.

"I did not make the rules, young one."

Emily stares down at the delicate china cup before her, refusing to look up though she knows the goddess is now sitting across from her. "I've figured it out now. Sort of, at least, so there's no point in… can't you explain it all? Please, my goddess."

"Dere does not seem to be much explainin left to do."

"I think there's plenty." _Easy, girl, _she scolds herself. Her tone is too forceful. She'd just been struck by _lightning_. No need to keep pushing her luck so hard. "This – this gift I should have, is that why the Admiral wants me?"

"Yes."

"What's he planning that could require some kind of witchery? Last I checked that was the sort of thing people were burned for." Silence. She didn't really expect an answer to that one, but it was worth a shot. Moving right along, then. "Could I help Jo? Could just the two of us perform this spell on my mother?"

"Yes."

Emily pauses, circles a finger around the rim of her teacup, takes a sip of the liquid as she gathers the courage to allow her thoughts down a different path. "What the Admiral said about me…"

"This Admiral." Her goddess scoffs, mocking. "He thinks yeh are cursed. Dat yeh are less dan human."

"It certainly sounds like…"

"No." Her goddess cuts her off. "Yeh listen to me, young one. Yeh are _more_. Dat is why I have been kept from you. Knowin can be dang'rous. Dey did not want yeh to know."

They? Some part of her wants to ask, but she's beginning to think there are some things she does not, in fact, want to know. "So I was never meant to understand? I may be just like mother, unable to die and I was never meant to understand exactly why?"

"I did not make de rules." Her goddess says again, more forceful this time. "Nor do I always agree with dem. But now yeh do know. Dere is nothin can be done 'bout it."

"What did you mean I am 'more'?"

A pause. Her goddess sighs. "What yehr mother is – what she does – it was not meant to be a curse. It is a gift given to one near death, de job handed off so dat each Captain can rest in de end."

"And a worthy person can remain alive, or something close to it, with the promise of seeing their beloved again." She thinks of Alex. Of how far she might be willing to go if it meant more time with him in the end. "I can understand that."

"More dan alive, young one. De Captain is immortal and granted him own sort of power. Dat is a special gift. But dese things come with a price."

"A price that makes it seem a curse. That – makes sense, I suppose."

"But dis time was different. De job had never been given to a woman before, much less a woman who had already received my blessin." Her goddess softens a bit, at the thought of Emily's mother?

Emily's brows furrow. "You'd given my mother your blessing?"

"I had. De moment I was freed from my mortal shell. She would not have known." Her goddess' tone turns sad. "When she became de _Dutchman's _captain, I was worried. With my blessin and de privileges of bein an immortal, dere was no end to de trouble she could cause if things went wrong."

"And then they started to do just that."

"So I paid a special visit to a frightened little girl."

Emily remembers all too well. Being just eight years old, captured by the Admiral, imprisoned and beginning to wonder if anyone would bother coming for her. And then her goddess just appearing, healing her bruises, telling her all would be fine. And it was. "That's when you gave me your blessing."

"No, young one. Dat is when I took much of de power yeh mother possessed and gave it to you. And dat is why I have been holding it back even still. Yeh weren't ready."

Processing this takes a moment. Her hand, a little shaky now, reaches for her teacup again, but her stomach is churning as the sea had been not too long ago and she sets it back down with an unsteady clatter. "So – what happens now?"

"Now yeh know. Dere is little point in my stayin away. I will allow you the use of your power, a bit at a time. How you use it is up to you, young one, but I would suggest yeh learn it quickly and learn it well."

"And what if – what if I don't _want _it?" Because she really doesn't, can't fathom why anyone would. She's not sure what she can do with this magic, but she knows she doesn't want to find out. This sounds, to her, like more than any mortal should have ever been granted.

"I'm afraid de choice was never truly yours. I am sorry."

Of course it wasn't. Taking a breath, Emily finally looks up to meet her goddess' eyes. "I think… I'd just like to be back on my ship now. Please, my goddess?"

Nodding once, her goddess waves a hand, almost flippant. The wind picks up a bit again. The scene around her falls away a piece at a time until she is back in her cabin. _"I'll be watchin, young one." _Her goddess gives a final warning.

There is sunlight streaming into the room. Figures, she sighs. It's early morning, perhaps eight. Curiously, she's no longer in bed but curled up in the window seat, staring out at the sparsely clouded blue sky. But – she'd only been dreaming. Right? She'd still be in bed if she was. The idea that she wasn't sends her heart pounding anew. If her goddess had pulled her to that island physically – the lightning. Emily should be very dead.

A knock sounds at her door. Thinking there are only a handful of people it could probably be at this point, she answers absently, not bothering to stand. "Yes?"

Alex peers his head into the room, somewhat cautious. "Can I come in, love?"

Too preoccupied to entirely remember at first why she's not supposed to be happy with him, she shrugs a bit. "I suppose."

He closes the door behind him, and she knows why she should've told him not too, but is beyond caring just now. He crosses the room to sit at the other end of the window seat. She shifts to lay her legs across his lap. He doesn't say anything and she doesn't want to break the silence because it's at least more pleasant than arguing. After a moment he runs his hand up her leg from where her wooden replacement is, fiddling with the braces straps. "I miss you." It's so quiet she almost doesn't hear it.

He misses her. That should make her angry. He'd just…with Adrienne. Hadn't he? She blinks at him. "Oh, yes. Running off to spend a night with another woman was a wonderful show of that." Snarky, because that's how she should respond.

His brows furrow, probably because she feels too detached to manage any real venom behind her words. "No. That's what I wanted to tell ye yesterday when…" His fists clench, but just for a moment. "Nothin 'appened with Adrienne, love."

She meets his eyes and doesn't believe him because he's got a silver tongue about as bad as his father's now and everyone knows it. But she still can't manage to be angry because she's just been given a glimpse of a bigger picture and she doesn't have room to keep pretending that there's anything left of the children they were such a very short time ago. "Alex, just forget it. Honestly. Adrienne Barbossa is the least of my worries right now."

"The least of your – since when?" His fists clench again, and he growls before she can respond. "Since ye spent 'alf the day yesterday with Connelly, is that it?"

"Nothing happened with Riley yesterday." Because at this point he likely won't believe the truth even if she gives it to him.

He snorts, shaking his head. "I want to believe that, but…" He's trying to read her. She's not even sure of what her own expression is at the moment, but he doesn't like it apparently, because he scowls. "What's got into you?"

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know. Ye're actin just strange. Did ye 'ave a vision? Or are ye just angry with me? I swear I'm tellin only the truth about me n' Adrienne, ye know. What I did to deserve such mistrust, I cannot fathom."

She pauses and thinks a moment and figures, why not? He's an idiot sometimes, but he's still Alex and she still loves him and there is that big picture she's starting to see. "Yes. Yes, I had a vision, and you're not going to believe it, but I think – I think I should be dead."

* * *

><p><em><strong>I think this update might actually be coming a little earlier than usual... Thanks for reading! :)<strong>_


	59. An Almost Escape

"Oh, by the -," Emily cuts off, running a hand through her loose dark waves, frustrated, "I know that look, Jo. What is it _now_?" Jo opens her mouth as if to speak, but shuts it again without saying a word, which is disconcerting to say the least. The older woman just about always has something to say. Emily scowls. "Jo!"

They're in Emily's cabin. Alex had just left after she'd explained what had happened the night before when Jo came in, and now she's just gone through the whole thing over again and is feeling rather frustrated with it all.

The older woman just shakes her head, waving Emily off. "Nothing that can't wait, I'm sure. You've got plenty to worry about already, I'd say."

Emily huffs. "Speaking of what I'm already worried about, just how much do you know about," magic. Why does the word sound just so ridiculous?

Jo raises and eyebrow. "Our powers." She offers, diplomatic.

"…I need to start learning this quick if I'm to get a handle on it apparently and seeing as the only other person I know of who…" Oh.

"Who…?" Jo prompts when Emily doesn't go on.

"My old captain, and that's not a bad idea. We're already headed for Shipwreck and last I heard from her she'd finally settled there, running one of the taverns."

"I thought you said you didn't want to pull her into this."

"Well, I wouldn't be, I mean, not the way I'd been thinking. Having her help with the spell itself would be more than I want to ask of her, but helping me learn to cast it myself seems a reasonable way to go about it." And besides, she had just been thinking that she wouldn't mind paying Ana a visit.

"Cap'n!" The shout comes from one of her crewmen. Emily's brows furrow as she hears some sort of commotion up on deck. Jo locks eyes with her for a moment, hers widening, before the sound of gunfire reaches their ears and they booth shoot to their feet, tearing out of Emily's cabin.

The scene they're greeted with when they get up on deck themselves is – worrying, to say the least.

Peter Montgomery, Riley's fellow midshipmen, is planted on the rail, clutching the rigging for balance, a pistol in his free hand. Emily's men have formed a half circle around him, swords and pistols drawn, but they seem to be hesitating.

Emily scowls as she stalks forward. "What the hell is going on here? Shoot him, you idiots!"

Several of the men send worried glances her way as they slowly part to let her through. She sends them a dangerous scowl as she storms past, setting her sights on the half-brained whelp aiming a pistol like it's going to do him any real good. "Now, just what do you think you're going to do with that…" She doesn't even manage to finish the sentence, because it's at this point that she finally sees who he's pointing the pistol at. "I knew I should've killed you." She tells Peter now, near growls at him.

"Perhaps you really should have." This from Captain Andrews, whose standing not a few feet away, being restrained by two of her men. "Surely you saw this coming, Captain."

She instantly thinks of Joshy. Of what he'd been trying to tell her that night she'd brushed him off so carelessly. Is this what he'd been trying to warn her about? "I'm beginning to think I should have. How did you manage it?"

"Does it matter? We're here now, and you're going to let us go. Isn't she Peter, my boy?"

"Yes, sir." Peter says, eyes hard as he levels the pistol at his captives head. "She is."

Emily's eyes dart between the figure standing stiffly, staring down the barrel of the pistol, and Peter, who looks determined without a hint of remorse. Her mind races, trying to come up with an answer, but she just can't think! Panic builds up and a strange sensation takes over her, building in her gut.

"Captain!" Andrews prods, straining a bit against the men holding him. Taking this as his cue, Peter cocks the pistol.

"Emily." His voice is calm and quiet. Emily. He just called her Emily. "Don't give them a thing."

She tears her eyes away to glare at Andrews. "You bastard. And you'd call me cruel?" He only glares right back. The strange feeling builds, a sort of intense pressure. She sets her sights on the boy with the pistol. "Peter, is it? You don't want to do this. You shoot, and I will show you real cruelty, believe me, you'll wish I had killed you, I swear it."

"The choice is entirely yours, Captain." Andrews interjects again. "Let us go and there'll be no harm done."

"Stow it, you!" She snarls. "Peter! I keep my promises! Don't be stupid!" He doesn't move. The pressure builds further. Her fists clench so hard her nails begin to dig into her palms. Her men begin to gasp. Jo murmurs a worried, urgent 'Peg!'. Emily isn't entirely sure of what's happening, but Peter seems to be… the pistol. He's pointing it at himself.

His eyes widen, his hands begin to shake. "Captain!" He stutters.

Andrews looks just as shocked. He looks at Emily, then Peter, then Emily again, but says nothing. No one moves, apparently too frightened and confused to know what to do.

Alex is the one to murmur. "Stop. Peg. Emily, stop!"

Is she doing this? She remembers what her goddess had said, about her powers, how she'd be allowed to use them now, a bit at a time. Is – is she controlling Peter? If so, how does she stop? No, wait, a more pressing questions enters her mind – does she want to? With what he's threatening, why she should she?

Her papa's come up now. He pauses, probably taking in the scene – Emily shaking with rage, Peter with the pistol now aimed up under his own chin. Emily exchanges a glance with the boy who'd been at the other end of that pistol, and there's an odd sort of understanding in her papa's voice when he finally speaks. "You, boy." He points at the wiry figure still standing before Peter. "Move while you still can."

Snapped out of whatever odd trance he'd been in, Riley Connelly starts a bit, locks eyes with Will, and then does just that, shooting forward to stand behind Emily.

"There. It's over, Emily, just that easily. Killing this one here, that's not going to make you feel any better now."

He's right. It takes a moment for it to sink in, but he's right. Gods above, what is she doing? Her fists unclench as she relaxes, slow but sure. Peter, still looking thoroughly terrified, drops the pistol.

"In the brig. Both of them, in the brig, now! They're not to be fed or given water until I decide what to do with them!"

Several of her men, including the two holding Andrews down, mutter an 'aye Cap'n', and she watches as Peter and Andrews are both hauled off. With a mixture of anger and confusion and fear settling in her gut now over what's just happened, she rounds on her crew. "What are you looking at? Back to work you scabrous dogs!" She growls. "Shipwreck Cove, I want to be there by tomorrow night, go on, I want movement!" The men scramble to do as she'd said. She turns to Riley, softening a touch, too preoccupied to realize how it'll look. "I'm so sorry. Are you alright, love?"

Apparently, he's a little too preoccupied to worry about appearances either. "Yes." He nods. "Yes, I'm fine." He ghosts a shaky hand against her cheek. "This – this wasn't your fault, though. I should've asked…"

"It's quite a mess I've made." She catches his hand in her own, holding it a moment.

"_We've _made." He interjects firmly.

"We'll get it sorted, one way or another." She assures, not missing a beat.

Her father clears his throat. Emily looks up at him, and he gestures subtly to Alex, who's eyes are fixed on Riley and glaring with a fierceness she's only ever seen him match once – the day before, when he'd thought she'd been _with _with Riley. Alright, so, _now _she realizes just how it looks. But Alex will just have to get over it. She'd told him nothing had happened with Riley and it was basically the truth. If he doesn't believe it, that's his problem. "Alex, stop it." She says irritably.

"You keep your hands off her!" He doesn't take his eyes off Riley.

Riley takes his hand back, looking more annoyed than worried, but he's smart enough not to engage Alex. Instead, he addresses Emily, regaining some composure. "It would seem I have been declared a pirate. In fact, I have been promised that if ever Andrews should once again have the means to do so, I shall be branded as such." Taking a breath, he glances at Alex again. "Seems I've run out of options, at least for the time being. If you'll have me, Captain, I'd be much obliged of a place to stay. You'll find I'm a plenty able seaman, I think."

She studies him a moment. "I'm sure I will, Mister Connelly." She replies, then pulls him aside after another glance at Alex. "Don't get too comfortable." She says, all business. "I mean it. I'm going to get you back to your Sarah, I promise."

"I wasn't intending too, Miss Emily. I'm sure you will."

She straightens, clearing her throat. "Right then. Get to work, Mister Connelly, there's always plenty to be done."

He slips off with one last wary glance at Alex, who stalks forward to hover over Emily. "You told me nothing happened!"

"Because nothing did happen, Alex." She slips past him and pauses, deliberating a moment. Goddess, what she really wants right now is a drink – but instead she heads up for the helm.

"That, just now, that did not look like 'nothin'."

"You disappeared with Adrienne for an entire night." She points out as a retort, matter-of-fact.

"I told you..."

"And I have no more reason to believe you than you do me, Sparrow." She pauses just as she reaches the steps leading up to the helm, spinning around to face him. "You know what, I'm not even sure I care what you do any longer. Just as long as I don't hear about it."

There's that sad look again. "Now wait, I didn't – I don't – that's not…"

Another crewmen comes up, grabbing Emily's attention to explain tightly that the shot she'd heard earlier was Peter's; one of her men is dead. It takes a moment for that to sink in. Be it luck or the fact that Calypso seems to have her hand in everything related to Emily, the_ Sea's_ _Queen _doesn't too often loose crew this way.

_Sorry, Alex, but you really are the least of my worries now. _Forcing herself to be calm, she turns back to him. "Alex." She locks eyes with him, and lies through her teeth. "Honestly. Do what you want as long as I don't hear about it. Besides," she glances at Riley, whose eyes are fixed on one of Emily's men as he's told what to do, "I'd say we're just about square now." She looks back up at Alex. "How about that?"

"Square." He pulls back a little, nodding. "Right. S'ppose… I can live with just being square."

She offers a small smile and leans up to plant a kiss on his cheek. "Good. Now, you leave Riley alone, alright? Goddess knows I have enough to worry about." He huffs, but nods, and she leaves him where he stands.

* * *

><p>Square. She'd spent over an hour with Riley Connelly in her cabin, very much alone and doing who really knew what, and that's all she has to say about it now, that they're 'square'? Alex tells her he can live with that, but he's lying through his teeth.<p>

The look on Emily's face, when she'd seen Connelly at the other end of the pistol… and then when she'd turned to him afterwards, saying she was sorry. Alex knows _that _look. He's seen it hundreds of times before – directed at him, and only him. And he wants to _gut _Connelly and it turns his stomach because now it looks like he'll have to put up with him as a shipmate.

But that look. Is it possible Emily, _his _little Captain, is falling for…

No. 'Course not, he tells himself. That's ridiculous. Emily's not that flighty. Maybe she just – feels guilty. For almost, indirectly getting someone killed. A friend killed. Friends, that's all it was, she'd made friends with Riley, she's allowed that.

She is allowed just friends.

But _that _look. He knows _that_ look. _That_ look does not mean friends. No. _That _look means Alex has to do something, soon.

(And if Will Turner doesn't like it, he can go straight back to Hell for all Alex cares any longer.)

* * *

><p>They make it to Shipwreck late in the afternoon the next day, just as Emily had wanted, and it's probably a very good thing because Alex suspects it might have been the Devil to pay if they hadn't. She doesn't leave the ship, though, he notices. She sends her brother, who still isn't really talking to her, off to see Mrs. White. She tells Jo to go find her own trouble – Captain Kristoff's ship is docked not far from theirs, both she and Alex had noticed, and Jo deserves a break. For all that she insists Kristoff isn't 'hers' in any way, Jo certainly seems all too eager to do just as Emily had suggested.<p>

Alex makes as if to leave too. Really, he fully intends to. There are several things he thinks about doing, including catching up with Emily's papa for a talk that they have yet to really have. But then he realizes that everyone's gone. Even Emily's papa, even Joshy, she'd shooed everyone away. Except for the men down in the hold, guarding Andrews and Peter, of course, but they won't be a bother.

He wouldn't be finding a moment more opportune than this, that's for certain. He makes his way back onto the ship as quiet as possible, slips below decks, and down the familiar corridor. Her door is open; she's expecting everyone else to be gone. He hovers in her door way and just out of her easy line of sight as she sits at her desk. There's a book set before her, large and familiar. One of Jo's ancient spell tomes. He watches as Emily reaches out, slow and hesitant, as if to open it. Her hand hovers over the cracking, dry old leather for a moment, until finally she takes the corner of it, lifting up… now just what the devil is that? A strange spark of light, almost like lightening, travels up from the book as she touches it, dancing up her arm. She snatches her hand back as though burned, crying out, but it sounds more like fright than pain.

For a moment she just stares down at the book, brows furrowed and brown eyes wide. The look turns to a scowl after a long moment as she rakes a hand through her hair. Looking a little shaky now, she reaches down to a drawer of the desk and pulls something out – a bottle. She pulls the cork out with her teeth, a little too routine, and brings the bottle to her lips for a long drink.

He moves to lean in the doorway now, arms crossed, calm and casual. "Well, that's the most interestin thing I've ever seen, I must admit."

She starts, choking on the rum as she sets the bottle on the desk. "Alex!" She coughs. "Goddess, I thought you'd gone with the others!"

"Figured ye could use the company. Looks to me like I was right." He eyes the bottle. "That's not goin to make all, erm, _this,_" he gestures towards the book, "go away, ye know."

"Mmm," she settles back in the chair, "perhaps not, but it makes it me feel better."

He studies her a moment. "That's not very sound solution, is it? Unless ye intend to spend the rest of ye're life 'alf in the bottle." There's a pause as Emily doesn't answer immediately. He goes on, annoyed at her apparent apathy. "I keep sayin we aren't our parents, but I s'ppose it's 'opeless, is'nit?"

Her eyes dart up to meet his now, and there it is, the fire always blazing behind those pretty orbs. "Alex Sparrow, if you're really trying to compare to my father, I will throw this bloody bottle at your head."

He stands straight and holds his arms out. "Be my guest, love."

She picks it up, eyes him, then it, deliberating. She doesn't throw it, as he knew she wouldn't. "S'near full." She grumbles, sulking. "It'd be a travesty to waste it like that." She brings the bottle to her lips again instead. He drops his arms, rolling his eyes. She raises her brows at him. "You can come in, you know. There's no one around but us now."

"That is, in point of fact, just what I was thinkin." He hesitates, though. Why is he hesitating? He isn't sure.

"Oh?" She asks, flirting now, a smirk behind her eyes. "Pray tell, just what else is it that crossed your mind to have you thinking about being alone with me?"

He always flirts back with a pretty girl. Always. But Emily's not just any other pretty girl, and her attitude is as of late is really beginning to put him off. "Ye've been drinkin." He excuses, shaking his head.

She laughs outright at this. "Not sure what that even has to do with it, to tell the truth."

"Be taking advantage, I would. S'the kind of thing ye're papa will be waitin to 'ave me 'ead for."

The smirk is back, adorably mischievous, as she holds the bottle out to him. "Then you have a drink _with _me and at least I can call it even if it comes down to it." He still hesitates. She rolls her eyes. "For heaven's sake, such a _look_." She gets to her feet and strolls across her cabin to him, pressing the bottle against his chest and guiding his hand up to take it. "Looks to me like you need it even more than I do."

He stares down at her a moment, glances at the bottle, and realizes…is she enjoying this somehow? He doesn't quite understand. She's made it clear she doesn't believe him about Adrienne (and what really _did not_ happen), but she doesn't seem upset as he'd expect over it. He shakes his head. _Pirates, is that what the excuse still is? _

Fine, then. He's not sure how much longer he can stand this little dance their doing, but he brings the bottle to his lips and at least pretends to take a drink, though he can't seem to make himself actually swallow. Emily leads him further into the room, and he decides maybe he can ignore all the slow-brewing problems between them, just for one night more.

* * *

><p>He actually has to work up some courage just to knock on her door. Perhaps it's silly. It's just Emmy after all. But he's been trying so hard to stay out of her way. That is what she'd seemed to want, anyway. Miss Gibbs had tried to tell him how very wrong he was, but he isn't sure he believes her. The truth is, he can't blame his sister. He still feels he was justified in telling on her, but at the same time he quite understands why it made her so angry. He's just been trying to leave her be long enough that maybe she'll except an apology.<p>

There's voices coming from inside her cabin, a little frantic, his sister giggling – or chocking back a giggle, more like. Joshy's eyes widen when he hears another all too familiar voice – oh. He hasn't interrupted them _again_, has he? Well it's all Miss Gibbs' fault this time, he thinks crossly, feeling a blush creep up to color his cheeks as the door finally opens. He looks down at his feet to hide it.

"Yes, what is it?" Emily sounds a little annoyed to begin with, and he winces.

"I'm sorry, Emmy." He always seems to be apologizing for something, doesn't he? "Miss Gibbs sent me to come get you because she's just met someone who wants to see you. Her names Anamaria. I think."

"Miss Gibbs sent you down to the docks on your own? It's dark already."

It is, but then, Shipwreck Cove is a pretty peaceful place as far as pirate havens go. "She was with someone else." He glances up at Emily, shrugging. "A man."

His sister chuckles now. "Ah. I see. Alright, give me a moment and then I'll walk you down to see Mrs. White." He nods. There's a bit of a pause. "Joshy. Will you look at me?" Slow and hesitant, he allows his eyes to travel up and meet his sisters. She ruffles his hair and leans down to press a kiss to his forehead. "I'm not angry with you."

His brows furrow. "You-you're not?" He's not sure what to make of this. "But I wouldn't blame you. And I mean, I'm really so very sorry and -," he feels tears welling up and scolds himself for it. His sister never cries and it's supposed to be something girls do all the time. Why does he do it so often? "Please don't hate me Emmy!" He bursts, pleading.

"Hate you!" She shakes her head, incredulous. "Joshua Turner, I could not hate you if I tried! If you think I could than you do not know the meaning of the word." She kneels down to meet his eyes proper. "Please, put the thought out of your mind."

He throws his arms around her. "You really mean it?"

"Yes, of course I do!" She returns his embrace with wire strong arms. "There, now." She pulls away to look at him again. "I just need a moment, remember, and then we'll go see Mrs. White about getting you settled for the night and I'll sing to you before I leave, how about that?"

He nods, sniffling as he brings an arm up to wipe the tears away. She stands straight again and goes to close the door, but he peers into the room, the window dominating the far wall catching his eye. It's wide open. "You know, you might try closing the window up again next time. Hello Alex!" He calls into the room, mischievous.

Emily's eyes widen as a blush colors her cheeks. She covers it with a playful scowl. "Oi! Cheeky! Shoo!"

Joshy sticks his tongue out at her as Alex's grinning face appears in the window and she quickly shuts the door.

* * *

><p>"Emily Turner!" Ana's shrill voice calls out, as easily heard as ever, even in the noise of a tavern full of pirates.<p>

Emily spots the older woman easily, picking her away across the room. There's a smile on her face, open and honest. A rare occurrence, or at least it had been. Emily returns it as she finds herself being pulled in for a hug. Funny, it never occurred to her that she'd so missed the older woman until now, seeing her again. Unsure of what to say now that she's here, she only allows herself to hold onto the woman who'd been the closest thing to a mother she'd ever really known, perhaps a little longer than necessary.

Ana pulls back after a long moment. "Well, just look at you, Captain. All grown up and pretty, now."

Emily huffs playfully. "Well, more grown up, perhaps. Goddess, I didn't realize how good it would be to see you."

"Nor I you, although the circumstances could be better, I'm told. Oh, but we'd best not get into that here, I have rooms just up the stairs." She makes as if to lead Emily towards the back of the tavern, but pauses. "Hold on, where's your Alex? I seem to remember you two being thick as thieves, scarce saw one of you without the other."

"Oh, he's, erm," Emily gives the older woman a sheepish look, "trying to pretend to be keeping his distance…which is a whole other story from the one I'm meant to be telling you."

"Trying to pretend…" Ana looks bewildered. "Well, I've got all the time in the world, and you're not out of it just yet either." They pick their way through the tavern and climb the short flight of stairs. Ana leads her into a large but cozy room, housing everything from a bed to a worn old sofa and arm chairs. Jo is curled up on the end of the sofa, looking nothing short of fascinated as she flips through a book that looks much like her spell books – but isn't one of them.

Emily places a hand on her hip as she enters the room. "Miss Gibbs," she scolds, half playful, "I'm afraid I'm really rather cross with you. Sending my baby brother all the way down to the docks on his own and after dark, no less."

Jo rolls her eyes. "Well, fortunately for him, he doesn't seem to have his sister's inherent knack for finding trouble even when actively _not _looking for it, so I figured he'd be fine."

Emily opens her mouth to retort, but shuts it again and shrugs upon noting that Jo has a point. Ana laughs. "I've always found it hard to believe when she says she isn't looking for it. And don't even get me started on Sparrow's boy, Alex. You are going to explain about him, now, aren't you?" She gestures for Emily to have a seat as she takes one of the arm chairs.

Emily huffs as she sits herself next to Jo. "Well, it's – I mean, we sort of – well, it's all just very complicated since we've got my papa now."

Ana looks startled at this, in a way Emily's never seen before. "Your – your papa? So you've done it then. All the way to the End and back again?"

Emily nods. "Papa's been with us since."

Ana seems to relax and let out a strange, relieved sort of laugh. "Oh, thank the old gods. I'd thought I was going mad when I saw the men coming off your ship earlier. I could've sworn it was him I had seen but wasn't brave enough to chase him down and find out."

Ah. "Oh, you can thank me for that," Emily offers apologetically, "with all that's happened I never even thought to write back and explain."

Ana scoffs. "With all I've been hearing of you I hardly expected anything back, at least not right away. Anyway, with Will hovering over your shoulder I suppose I can see why Alex would feel the need to keep away. Your papa was really quite protective of you, you know. Now, about all that's happened."

"I've already explained about the spell." Jo interjects now, glancing up from the book she'd gone back to. "This is – incredible. I never would've imagined there was anything more than what's down in my mother's books, they're both so massive, but you've got pages of spells and rituals in here that I've never seen before."

"Each corner of the map has its own traditions to add, and the second half of each book is made up of counter spells and ways to break curses cast by others. Magic can be far too tricky not to have that."

"Which is just why we're here. I had a vision…" Emily glances at Jo.

Jo shakes her head. "I figured that was your story to tell."

"Right." So Emily launches right into it. This is Ana, after all. She hasn't seen the older woman in ages, but still she feels as though she could tell her anything. It helps a little, this time, telling it now that she's thinking a little more clear. When she finishes, all is silent for an unexpected moment; when she'd told the story to Jo and Alex they'd had nothing but questions they couldn't wait to interject with, but Ana just studies her with the wisdom of one older than them all.

"I expect you've no idea just how lucky you are, girl, to bring such wrath down on yourself and be here now to tell the tale."

"Oh, I think I've got an excellent idea. In fact, I've come to realize that if the intent had been for me to die, I would have. Honestly I'm not sure why I _am _here to tell the tale."

Ana scowls, as though that should be obvious. "For the very same reason this Admiral wants you, of course! Power such as you've been given can't be done away with so easily."

"Not even by a goddess?" Jo interjects, curious and impulsive. A cold breeze sweeps across the room, bringing with it the smell of the sea and the feel of the air when it's thick with an approaching storm – although there were no storms in sight this night and there's no window for it to have come through. A blush colors Jo's cheeks as she brings a hand up to play with her curls, flustered. "Ah, with all respect to ours, of course."

"With all respect," Ana repeats carefully, "I suspect not without the power itself having somewhere else to go."

"Great." Emily grumbles, relaxing back into the sofa with a huff. "And I don't even get a say in any of it. 'Unfair' is starting to seem quite the understatement."

The cold breeze sweeps across the room again. Emily glances around, sheepish, half expecting Calypso herself to appear.

"Watch your tone!" Ana hisses, scolding. "Such ungratefulness for such a wonderful gift, it's unheard of! You need only to learn how to use it."

"That would require some semblance of patience." Jo points out, raising an eyebrow at Emily. "Peg, I'm afraid, has none, and an awful short temper to match."

"Oh, I know." Ana replies. "But she'll live if she doesn't want to accidently end up killing someone."

This gets Emily's attention as she remembers the incident with Riley and Peter the previous morning. "Really? Can that happen?"

"It has been known to, I'm afraid, with those young and inexperienced." Ana says, all too serious. "It's not easy to override the will of others to such an extreme, but with power such as you've been given, anything is possible."

Emily's stomach drops. That's what she'd been afraid of. "Fine, then. When do we start?"

* * *

><p><em><strong>Coming up in the next few chapters: another glimpse of Elizabeth, magic related shenanigans, and what I promise will be something of an actual resolution for Emily and Alex and all of their many issues because I think it's probably about time, as I'm sure some of you are starting to agree.<strong>_

_**Thanks for reading. :)**_


	60. Magic and the Final Straw

Time. There simply isn't enough _time_. The _Dutchman_'s restless captain is already preparing for a fight, but Emily's not ready. She will be, soon, Calypso has faith in her favorite blessed one. But these things can only be hurried along so fast. Something must to be done. If she is not allowed enough time – disaster may ensue, complete and utter disaster.

Calypso is only allowed so much interference. It seems, however, that she did indeed spend too much time among the funny mortal outlaws – following the rules set for her no longer seems to be her strong suit.

.

The sun is bright and beautiful. The sea laps at the white sand shore, the waters perhaps a little choppy, the only indication of any unrest on the goddess' part. A light breeze slips past the coconut trees dotting the jungle making up the center of the island, rustling the leaves. The scene is peaceful and pretty… And Captain Swann scowls, glaring around at it all. It's been so long since she's been here, she can't bring herself to be anything but suspicious. What's Calypso up to now?

No sooner has the thought crossed her mind than the wind picks up, just for a moment, and then she becomes aware of a familiar, powerful presence.

"Mmm, 'tis always nice ta see yeh too, my Lizzie."

Lizzie sneers back. "Why am I here?"

"Because I have a bargain to make with yeh."

"Bargain? I don't need anything from you."

"Don't you?" The goddess struts forward, reaching out to catch one of the snakes writhing atop the captain's head. It hisses and snaps at the goddess, who only snorts. "I would think there is nothin yeh wouldn't give to be rid of what ye brought 'pon yehself."

Lizzie pauses at this, intrigued to spite herself. "And you're saying you could? Would allow for me to be rid of it?"

"It is the best I would have to offer yeh." One of the goddess' hands trails down, slow and steady, until it rests over the empty cavity that would house Lizzie's heart.

Lizzie gasps as she feels the serpents atop her head fall limp – long, golden brown strands replace them, falling to frame her face. She holds up one shaky hand, finding skin, pale but very human, instead of the scales she's grown used to. For a moment she's tempted to agree on sheer impulse, but she catches herself. Now she _knows _Calypso is up to something. The hand she'd been staring at comes up to grasp the goddess' wrist, her grip surprising strong and remaining so even as the hand becomes scaled and webbed again. "Such a gift wouldn't be given without a steep price, I imagine."

Calypso glares down at her hand darkly, and seems almost grudging in her response when Lizzie doesn't let go. "No. Never without a price. My price for dis is time."

"Time?" Lizzie scoffs, growing impatient. "I have plenty, speaking in general. What are you asking?"

"Yeh plannin to confront yeh daughter, steal back de compass. I am only tryin to be sure de fight is fair."

"Fair?" Lizzie laughs outright at this. "You talk to me about _fair? _Life is anything but fair. If Emily hasn't learned this by now, I'll be only too happy to teach her myself."

"Have yeh no love left for the chil' yeh labored so long to bring into de world?" The sky grows cloudy and the wind picks up as the goddess' mood darkens. She wrenches her hand free, glaring darkly at Lizzie. "I do not recall dat young Emily ever did yeh any wrong."

Somewhere locked away in a deep corner of her mind, the little that remains of Elizabeth cries out that _yes, of course there is love left for her daughter, there will always be that! _But Lizzie ignores her as always, refusing to be cowed. "All the same. Every day brings her closer to running off and finding the Chest, and I won't allow that. Not even for what you offer."

Calypso studies her, and the clouds clear away, the wind dies back out, but Lizzie knows her. The waters lapping at the shore grow more restless, the waves further out swelling higher. She's got the goddess worried. "And if dere was more?"

"More? What more could you possibly have to offer?"

There is a pause, as though the goddess is hesitant. But she's a goddess. Goddesses don't hesitate. This must be big. "William Turner."

"Is long dead." Lizzie snaps back, impatient again.

"Is alive and well," the goddess corrects, "tanks to yeh very determined daughter. I will restore yeh beauty and hand him over to yeh, to do wit' as yeh please. In return, I ask only for two weeks of patience."

Lizzie takes a moment to process this. Will – is alive? Emily had stolen him back? No doubt the very same way Will and Lizzie had once rescued Jack Sparrow. Her first instinct is to hunt him back down – but two weeks doesn't seem so long a time when you know you are immune to time itself. Two weeks, and the goddess will simply give him back? Well. She'd be foolish to protest with the trouble she'd be saved. "Very well."

* * *

><p>"Alright. Best we start small and simple." Ana sets a small book on the table cleared just for this purpose.<p>

"The most common way our magic shows itself is through levitation." Jo adds. "This should be easy."

Emily stares at the book. "What do I do exactly?"

"The easiest way is to command it, out loud." Ana answers.

Emily thinks this is ridiculous. She'd promised Ana she'd behave and listen, though, so she takes a breath. "Come." Nothing. At all. Emily turns to Ana, annoyed.

"Oh, don't give me such a look." Ana scolds. "It takes practice. You have to feel it."

Feel it? Like she'd felt it on the _Queen_ with Peter? She tries to remember the feeling, that strange pressure. Turning back to the book, she straightens up and uses the tone she would while giving orders. "Come!"

Well, she gets something this time. More than she was looking for; the whole table flies up and sails towards her. She ducks on instinct, hands coming up to shield her as she braces herself, expecting to get knocked back – but it doesn't happen. Relaxing slowly, she looks up to find the table and the book only made it halfway to her and are now floating in midair. Standing, she notes Jo off to the side, looking amused with hands on her hips, and then Ana, with one hand held out before her, keeping the table where it is.

She lowers her hand slowly. The table sets itself back on the floor, the book landing on top of it with a soft thud. "Again." Ana says. "But – let's try _just _the book this time."

Emily blushes.

* * *

><p>The entire crew has gathered on the deck of the <em>Queen <em>just to watch. The pair fly across the deck with their swords, swiping and blocking and jumping and dancing. The older boy laughs, taunting playfully as his opponent tries to match up. The Captain watches, one hand over her mouth, the other on her hip, caught between worry and amusement.

Joshy is a fierce little thing for all that he refuses to give up. It's impressive how long he lasts, until Alex finally trips him up and the younger boy falls on his face, his relatively harmless practice sword flying across the deck to land just at Emily's feet. She picks it up, ready to hand it back to him, expecting he'll be frustrated, raring to go again. She's not wrong, he takes it back eagerly and goes to face Alex again, but there is a grin on his face to match the older boys.

Emily allows a happy smile to spread her lips. Her boys, it seems, are finally beginning to get along.

Now, if only she can get to her papa…

* * *

><p>It's a beautiful night. The moon shines down, bright and just about full as Emily sits at the docks, one bare foot dangling in the water. She'd been unable to sleep – not that this is anything new – and so had decided to go for a walk. Funny how she's come to feel the most at peace like this, under the stars in the dead quiet of the night.<p>

All this business with her magic still isn't sitting right with her; in fact, she hates it the more she's forced to learn to use it. The thing is, it's not that she doesn't _want_ to use it. Really, it's just the opposite. She can see, so very well, just how useful it could be, what she could do with it. She's already caught herself wondering how she could use it against the Admiral, getting creative with what she'd like to do him. Perhaps, with all he's done to her, she can be forgiven this, but she still doesn't like it, doesn't like thinking what she might be capable of.

She does not want to be her mother.

It all leads back to this singular thought, and her fists clench. That strange pressure builds in her gut. She doesn't always know what's going to happen when the power builds inside her; if she gets upset, there's no telling what _could _happen, she's finding. She can't stop it once it starts, though, so she only tries to ensure it's nothing bad. This time, at first, it seems it will come to nothing at all. She stares down into the water before her, a little confused – and then her eyes widen as the water itself begins to form long tendrils which climb up her leg and continue traveling upwards until they come to her hand, where they form a sort of ball.

This is…new.

She tries to remember if Jo or Ana had mentioned anything about being able to control water in some way. She isn't sure they have. Tilting her head as she holds her hand out over the water, she tips it as though pouring water out of a glass. The sloshing ball in her hand loses it shape, all at once, and slides back to the sea beneath her with a soft _plop_.

She's almost curious enough to want to try that again, to see just what she can do with this…but she scolds herself sharply. She's here to learn control, that's all. Once she's got that down, she has no intention of using her magic at all.

…at least, that's certainly what she tries to tell herself…

* * *

><p>She avoids Riley. She doesn't want to. In fact, she's finding at times, now that the rules have been changed up a bit, she'd love nothing more than to spend time with him. She thinks it would be nice, to try just being his friend. The problem is, she doesn't know that it'll be so easy to remain only his friend any longer. She hates herself for it, but it's the truth. Somehow, she gets the impression he's avoiding her as well, and it's enough to make her wonder if perhaps, just maybe, he feels the same about her.<p>

None of this, it appears, goes unnoticed by Alex – or her papa.

"It is hard not to wonder." He says one evening, coming to sit in the now empty chair next to Emily. They are in a tavern – Jo had been sitting with her, but Captain Kristoff had come up and asked her for a dance as a lively tune had been struck up.

"Wonder what?" Emily asks absently, unsure of what he means and rather preoccupied. Riley is sitting not a few tables away with some of her crew, who have, it appears, coaxed him into trying some of the rum they have been enjoying.

"Why you have yet to let them go."

It takes her a moment to figure out what he could mean, but she scowls when she does. "Let them – after what Andrews tried a few days ago? I have half a mind to keelhaul him! In fact, I'm very much contemplating it."

"Just Andrews?"

"Well, no, that midshipman too, of course."

"Of course."

She finally turns to him. "What is that supposed to mean?"

"When I said 'let them go', Emily, I meant all three of them. They are all Navy men. _Company _men. Right?"

"Well, yes, but…"

"Then why is that one now allowed free reign of your precious ship?" He points to Riley.

Riley looks across the room to her, as though he can sense he's being spoken of. He meets her eyes and smiles, a little shy. Emily returns it without thinking and she has a feeling she knows what her papa is getting at. She tears her eyes away, the smile fading as she reaches for the mug set before her – but her father snatches it out of her reach. She glares at him.

"I was hoping for an answer." He says, unperturbed.

"Because he's – different. And if I send him back now he'll be hanged. I have to find another way." She waves him off.

"Different." Her papa repeats, skeptical it seems.

"Yes, different, alright, I don't expect anyone else to understand."

"I do understand, Emily. He seems a good boy. But he's young for you, perhaps in more ways than age implies. And I suspect you know all too well, what you could do to him."

She doesn't answer, doesn't need to. If she lies, her papa will see right through it, if she tells him the truth, she will only be giving him what he already knows. She only huffs and tries snatch her drink back. He studies her a moment. "I'm only trying to make sure you know what you're doing."

Emily snorts, wondering what her papa would think if he knew he was repeating back to her Alex's very own words. "Believe me, papa, no one hope's for that more than I do."

Something about that answer seems to satisfy her papa at least somewhat. He stands, sets the mug back in front of her, places a kiss atop her head, and leaves her to her thoughts.

* * *

><p>She dreams of her mother. It's not the usual dream; it's a bit of a blur, pouring rain, her papa shouting, glimpses of herself as she tries with shaking hands to perform some sort of ritual with her mother's heart beating on the table before her. That last gruesome sight is what sticks in her mind, the haunting thump-thump and the sound of an organ being played.<p>

In honesty, this particular dream could be less an actual premonition and more Emily's mind simply being jumbled with apprehension. Whatever the case, it's what she wakes to find that worries her the most; when she opens her eyes, there are books floating about the room. Wait, no. Not just books. Anything that isn't large and heavy – cushions from the window seat, an empty bottle, it's all swirling chaotically about the room. Even the lanterns on the walls pull at their hooks. It's madness. She almost laughs when she sees her peg leg sailing through the air. And just like that, it all stops, falling to land with quite a jumbled clatter. Thankfully, the only thing that's breakable is the bottle, and it doesn't.

Right then. No chance she's getting back to sleep anytime soon. Might as well clean this mess up while she's got nothing better to do.

Her leg brace is now sitting halfway across the cabin, well out of her reach. She'll have an interesting time trying to get to it unless she attempts to use her magic – but then there's a chance she'll summon it and all the books it's surrounded by. Goddess, this is ridiculous. She laughs at herself, probably sounding half mad, but that's alright, there's no one around to care.

Bringing a hand up, she takes a breath. "Come!"

* * *

><p>She's going to tell him. Emily's going to march right up and say it and pull Alex in for a kiss, and then she's going to tell him just what she really thinks about him having run off with Adrienne. She's going to tell him that what she wants more than anything is for him to be hers and only hers and it won't be too much to ask of him because he loves her too so it will all be good and…<p>

…and maybe, just maybe, she'll forget about Riley Connelly, because she really, _really_ needs to.

They've been at shipwreck for nearly two weeks. Ana and Jo have been relentless in trying to drill several books worth of new knowledge into Emily, forcing her to use her power even though she isn't any more comfortable with it than she had been upon first being told she had it. In fact, she's growing _less _comfortable with it the more she practices its use. The result of this has been a lot of headaches all around, and after a particularly frustrating session involving a lot of broken glass and a fire lit quite on accident, she'd stormed off. It's far from surprising that a bit of aimless wandering actually lead her down to the docks; she always seems to end up pacing the deck of her ship when upset.

What was surprising was running into Riley, who had been down in the brig, talking to Andrews and trying to make 'something-resembling-peace' with the boy who had been his fellow midshipmen.

"Peace?" She'd asked, incredulous and grasping at the chance to focus on problems that weren't her own. "He threatened to shoot you, Riley."

"Yes, but what happened was my fault as much as his. I had to try and talk to him."

"Your fault? Riley, don't be ridiculous. If you hadn't been the victim, someone else would have, and the fact that you were was really my fault besides."

"No, I mean… there was a reason I came up to talk to you that day you took me down to your cabin, Miss Emily." He'd started to look uncomfortable, averting his eyes. "Andrews had sent me, it was to be my last chance. I was to convince you to just let us go, by whatever means I thought necessary, or he would go forward with his own plans. But you – I mean, I let you…"

"You were rather distracted." She'd softened. "Still. Very much my fault. But I get the impression you and Montgomery were friends. He didn't seem to feel any guilt for it, holding you at gunpoint."

"He didn't. He still doesn't." Riley's fists clenched. "Peter thinks me no better than – well, you. His words, Miss Emily," he added hastily, "not mine. The point is, he said…" He'd trailed off, looking conflicted, clasping the rail next to her as he stared out to sea.

"What?" Her hand seemed to have moved of its own accord, covering his gently. He looked just – so sad. "Riley, what is it?"

"He said he hoped to be there when I hang one day." He finally got out, the sadness turning to anger. "I almost wanted to hold him at the point of a pistol for it. See what side he'd choose if forced to in such a way." His eyes had widened as the force of his own words sunk in. "Forgive me, Miss Emily. I've – never felt so conflicted before."

"Riley." She hated her own weak, very female heart as it hurt for him. Hoping to put a smile back on his boyish face, she'd taken his hand in her own, squeezing gently. "You know, I think I'd almost take _captain _over 'Miss' anymore. Honestly, you make it sound so formal. I'm a pirate, not some fine lady."

He turned to her, then, and a smile did indeed grace his lips, if only a small one. "Wasn't it you, though, who told me not to get too comfortable? I should think my mother would be far more grateful if you took care to bring her back a gentleman."

"And I happen to know that mothers of any kind would not be able to manage anything even resembling 'gratefulness' when catching a glimpse of me, particularly knowing I had been keeping their son company." She'd given him the smirk of the devil's daughter. "As well they shouldn't."

He'd laughed, but his answer was quite serious. "Well, sometimes you have to look a little beyond ones appearance. I should think I've learned that lesson very well these past months. Any man would be lucky to have you, Miss Emily, they'd need only to be patient enough to discover it for themselves."

She was blushing. Genuinely blushing, at a silly little compliment. "Riley. How do you manage to always be so charming? I know of no one anymore who can make me blush as you do."

She'd seen it coming. He'd given her plenty of time to pull away or push him away or simply say 'no', but she didn't. His lips covered hers, hesitant and sweet, nothing like kissing Alex. With Alex it was all burning heat and clawing passion. Riley was shy, more delicate, as though he thought her precious, something special. No one had ever treated her quite this way before.

And her heart _leapt_ and that strange, wonderful sensation had gone traveling down through her body – but that wasn't right, because Alex was the one that did that to her, _only _Alex.

She should've pulled away right then, as soon as the realization had hit her, but she hadn't. She'd let herself pretend, just for a moment, that she could have him, that she could deserve a boy like Riley Connelly, that she could be the kind of girl he would be happy with. It went no further than the kiss. Riley pulled away eventually and struck up a more trivial conversation, blushing and somewhat awkward, but that was part of his charm.

But she felt, somehow, every bit as unfaithful for it as she had the day she'd almost made a proper lover out of Riley. And this is a problem she can't ignore.

.

So she's going to track down Alex and tell him. Three little words. 'I love you'. They are no less true than they had been, of that she is certain, so it will be simple. She'll get out the words and then they'll be able to work the rest out, maybe not easy, but they'll be able to. She just needs to do this, to solidify whatever it is they have, make it a _real thing_. Pirates or not, she's decided, she's going to demand this one thing of him – that he be hers and only hers and if she has to let him put a ring on her finger for it, than that's just what she'll do. She thinks, knowing him as she does, that this is probably all he's been looking for. Running off with other women – maybe he'd just been trying to get the right reaction out of her? She hopes that this isn't too much to hope for.

She searches everywhere – the maze of rooms and corridors that makes up Captain Teague's home, the docks, several other nooks and crannies and areas full of small shops of sorts. She even circles back around to the _Queen _and checks there after a while, but he's nowhere to be found. Finally, left with no other options, she wanders into one of Shipwreck's few taverns. He isn't much for drinking, or the general atmosphere that a tavern full of other pirate's holds. He tries to pretend he is, but she knows him, is beginning to see through his façades she thinks. Oddly, nights out like that have become more her idea of fun than his. But she can think of nowhere else for him to be by now.

Several of her men are scattered in small clumps about the room and she is offered a drink several times, but she declines. She's on a mission this night and wants to be clear of mind when accomplishing it. In fact, considering the worried and vaguely disgusted looks Alex has been sending her whenever he catches her drinking, she's almost thinking she ought to give it up entirely. She would in a heartbeat if he would only voice his opinions out loud.

It's funny, how easily such resolve can be crumbled sometimes. Emily wants so badly to simplify things, thinks perhaps she'd been the problem all along, but it seems she's not the only one keeping them complicated anymore, if she ever really was.

Alex is in the tavern alright, sitting with some of the _Queen's _crew, but that's not his only company. There's a woman, Emily's age, perhaps but a few years older, who makes herself comfortable in his lap just as Emily lays eyes on them. Anger takes hold of her, hot and raw. She doesn't stay long enough to watch him accept the sleazy strumpet's advances; she spins on her heal and storms back out of the tavern quickly before any tears can make their way to her eyes.

…

He sees her. She's already spinning on her heel and storming back out the way she'd come with fists clenched, but that was Emily alright, and it's possible he's in trouble.

The woman currently occupying his lap is the mischievous daughter of another captain visiting Shipwreck. He's not even sure why he's been flirting with her – she's acting and is currently dressed like any common whore one might find on Tortuga, and not even one of the ones he himself would normally bother with. It's just that he's seen the looks Emily and Riley have been exchanging, even after the last night Alex had spent with her, and if said looks are anything to go by then Emily might have been telling the truth. He's tried to catch her attention again. He's tried, rather desperately, to convince her that nothing had happened with Adrienne – so many times, the argument that's ensued is starting to get maddeningly redundant. He's put up with her practicing magic – sometimes on him – and kept his mouth shut about the other habits she's picking up that are worrying him. But it's not working.

The woman in his lap is nothing compared to Emily – because, honestly, no woman could compare to Emily – but flirting back is his first reaction now. Bad habits, it seems, are all too easy to pick up, and extraordinarily difficult to drop. But he's beginning to wonder if he should bother trying. Emily's beginning to make him think she really doesn't care what he does now. And if that's true, he no longer has a reason to care either. But then, just now…

Maybe she does still care, and he's just an idiot.

"Who was _she?_" The woman in his lap – what was her name? Marion, Marie…he's forgotten already – turns his face with one dainty hand so he's looking at her again. "That was a girl, wasn't it?"

"Yes." He answers absently, then focuses back on her, brows furrowing in belated confusion. "What?"

"She stormed off in an awful little fury there, looked like." Mary – no, Marion sounded closer – he's too preoccupied to remember. Whoever she is, she places a hand on her hip. "Yeh might've mentioned if there were someone else. She yeh're wife or somethin?"

Well, maybe if he'd had his way to start, but… "Ah, no, darlin, what she is…" He stands, lifting her slight weight as he does and placing her back on her feet, "…is my Captain and I think I'd best go see what's got 'er in such a state, ye'll 'ave to excuse me…"

She howls indignantly, and if he'd stayed put long enough he might have gotten a sort-of-maybe-deserved slap, but he doesn't. He's already leaving the tavern and striding down the corridor after Emily.

"Peg!" He shouts, jogging to catch up to her fast-retreating figure. "Peg, wait, stop!" He grabs her arm, forcing her to turn back to him.

She whirls around with a tiny, hard-clenched fist. It collides with his stomach, sending him stumbling back, doubled over in pain. Alright, so he did deserve that, and he should've known better than to grab her like he had.

"Miserable, filthy, lying son of a – a gargoyle!" Her voice is shaky as she pushes him hard, and he stumbles back into a wall, sliding down it with both hands still clutching his belly.

"Thought ye said," he coughs out, gasping for the air that had been knocked out of him, "ye didn't _care_!"

"I shouldn't. I should hate your miserable black guts!"

He looks up at her now, in the dim light of the lanterns lighting the hallway. There's a single tear sliding down her cheek. "But ye don't?" It comes out sounding more a question than he'd intended.

She shakes her head even as she glares at him. "I've been all over looking for you, just to find you all ready to take your pleasure from… as if I'm not right here!"

"Looking for me? Why would you be looking for me?" She has Riley now, right?

She scoffs, shaking her head. "Sometimes I wonder how you could possibly be so incredibly _stupid_."

"Sometimes I wonder 'ow ye expect me to just _know _what ye're thinkin." He snaps back. "Ye're the one with the magic, but I'm expected to read minds."

"I came looking for you because I love you, you stupid, stupid idiot!" She finally gets out, and then stops abruptly, as though she'd startled herself.

He climbs to his feet , clutching his stomach again – she's annoyingly strong for a woman – and takes a slow steps towards her. "I might be pushin me luck 'ere," he says slowly, "but would ye mind runnin that by me again?"

"I was going to tell you. I meant to tell you the night you ran off with Adrienne, too. I love you."

He searches her eyes. "You've been drinkin again." He can't really tell, but that's the only explanation he can come up with for this whole strange conversation.

Another tear slides down her cheek. She wipes it away and goes back to glaring, so cold he thinks she could freeze Hell over. "Not a drop. But if you need some excuse to forget what I just said, go ahead, let it be that, think a drink is just what I need about now anyway. Goodnight, Sparrow." She turns to walk off.

"Peg. Don't…I didn't mean…" He grabs her arm again.

She pulls it away with vehemence this time, turning that glare on him again. "Don't you touch me! Don't you even think about it! You'll be lucky if I can even stand to have you looking in my direction any longer!" She storms off.

"Wait, please!" She doesn't look back, and he doesn't bother to chase her, only mutters a feeble, inadequate 'I'm sorry' as he watches her disappear.

* * *

><p>"Peg!" Jo exclaims the next morning as Emily shoots up the steps of Anamaria's tavern. "You're late."<p>

"I know." Emily breathes as she slips past the older woman. "I'm sorry, I didn't sleep very well, but I'm here now, so what it's to be today?"

Jo and Ana exchange a look, and Emily ignores it as she crosses the room to the book sitting open on a table, pretending to look over what's in it as she ties her hair back with the bit of string that's been clutched in her hand, or tries to as her hands are shaking. She'd recently afforded herself the luxury of a small mirror to hang in her cabin, so she knows full well how much a mess she looks. Her hair is a knotted fright as she'd had no time to try brushing it out and braiding it; she'd thrown on her old vest instead of bothering with a corset. The necklace her father gave her is sitting forgotten in the drawer of her desk where she kept it at night, afraid she'd break it as she tossed in her sleep. And as if all that weren't enough, there are dark bruises beneath her eyes, which are reddened – from allowing herself a cry, she's prepared to excuse if forced to, not that this isn't at least partly the truth.

"Hey." Jo says softly, coming up behind her and taking the string from her hands. "What's wrong?" She combs through Emily's hair with her fingers a bit before tying it back as neat as can be managed.

Emily takes a deep breath and lets it out slow, willing the fuzzy edges of her harried thoughts to come back into focus. "Nothing." She turns back to Jo. "Bit of a rough night, is all, like I said." She glances at Ana, who looks even more skeptical than Jo. "I'm fine." She insists. "Honest."

Jo looks ready to push the issue, but Ana interjects before she can. "Alright. Let's get to work, then. I wanted to start showing you how to do transformations. They'll tire you out quick, but can come in handy in a pinch."

On any other morning, Emily might've been at least intrigued by this, but on this one she's not sure it's the best idea. She feels such a mess she's not sure how much in control she'll be of her power. For all she knows, as exhausted as she feels in more ways than one, she won't be able to make anything happen at all. But she doesn't know how to go about articulating this without having to explain a whole lot of things that she doesn't currently want to, so she only nods.

"You know the drill by now." Ana says. "Why don't you send the book over to me?"

Since levitation is the easiest and most emotion-controlled way her magic shows itself, a demonstration of her growing control with it is always the first thing Ana asks her to do. Up to this point, Emily had thought she'd gotten a much better hold of it since that night she'd woken to find every book, stray bottle, and seat cushion in her cabin flying through the air around her. This is becoming routine. She turns to the book and points with two fingers, commanding with a gesture for the large, leather bound tome to rise into the air. It does nothing. Huffing, she straightens up and gestures a little more forcefully. Now it rises up, floating lazily a few inches above the table. Emily sweeps her hand through the air, meaning for the book to float over to Ana. It stays put, stubborn as she's known for being. "Oh, come on." She grumbles in a burst of frustration. "All the way!" She sweeps her hand through the air again, toward Ana…and this time, the book follows, a little too fast with Emily's sudden mood swing. Ana darts out of the way as the books sails across the room and hits the wall before falling to the floor.

"You're fine, eh?" Jo asks, hands on her hips as she sends a raised eyebrow in Emily's direction. Emily only stares down at the book. "Alright. Where's Alex and what's he done this time?"

"I don't want to know, and nothing, he's done nothing. I've just got smart and given up on him, is all. Sorry." She apologizes to Ana. "That won't happen again, I promise."

"Given up?" Jo looks shocked. "What do you mean 'given up' on Alex? Peg, what did he _do_?"

"Nothing. Jo, I'm telling you, Alex was just being Alex, I realize that now." She shuffles over to the sofa and sits herself down, shoulders slumped. "I remind everyone else all the time, that I – _we're _– pirates. But I wasn't really applying that to him. And now I've realized I've been expecting too much of him and that's that."

"That's that?" Jo repeats her again. "You're just…giving up?"

Emily shrugs. "I've got my ship and a loyal crew and a sister in my first mate. I can go on just fine without him being anything to me. More than perhaps a friend, that is, eventually."

"That's a hard learned lesson," Ana says quietly, "but it's one you were going to _have_ to learn with the life you've chosen, I'm afraid." She comes over to plant a kiss on Emily's forehead, sitting next to her and wrapping one arm around her shoulder. "I learned it first with Jack, and I was hoping you wouldn't with Alex, but like father like son I suppose." Alex's voice echoes in her head. _We are not our parents_. Yeah. Sure. She allows herself just a moment to lean into Ana, accepting the bit of motherly comfort. Ana goes on after a quiet moment. "We can skip lessons just for today if you'd like."

Emily pulls away, forcing herself to be Peg, the tough lady pirate. It's easier that way. "No. No, I need the distraction." She stands, feeling a little calmer and more collected now that she'd got all that out into the open. Holding out her hand, she silently commands the book to do her bidding again, and it does without hesitation this time, floating slow and easy into Ana's lap.

Ana sets it aside with a nod of approval. "That's good, the way you just focused yourself."

"I've been working on that, believe it or not." Emily straightens up a bit, head high. "Now, what were you saying about transformations?"

* * *

><p><em><strong>I'm pretty sure this is coming later than usual, so I'm sorry for that. It's two in the morning just now, so that should tell you how determined I was to get something posted.<strong>_

_**Thanks for reading. :)**_


	61. Chosen Battles

It would be easier, she thinks, if Alex wasn't trying so hard. If he was being careless about it, if he was trying only to get her into bed with him again, if he would only give her a reason to keep being good and angry. But he isn't.

He's a gentlemen. A perfect one. He calls her Captain. He stays out of her way when that's what she wants. He starts to buy her things – fine chocolates off another one of the many ships that make port at Shipwreck for one reason or another; flowers, she has no idea from where; earrings to go with her necklace; silk sheets for her bed.

It really only makes her want to _strangle _him. How dare he think he can buy her back? She's not sure what _would _make her take him back at this point. She's decided she really is finished. She's going to be hard now, so no one will be able to touch her like he could, not ever again.

Emily Turner is just simply _done_. The only problem now is, Alex Sparrow just simply isn't getting that message.

* * *

><p>"I mean, he just won't give <em>up!<em>" Emily growls as she thrusts forward with her sword, impaling her invisible opponent. It's a cloudy day, the promise of an eventual storm hanging in the thick atmosphere. The docks are sparsely populated, and Emily and Jo are the only two above decks on the _Queen _as Emily attempts to vent some of her frustration through sword practice.

"I don't know what you want me to say." Jo sighs from her position sitting on a barrel well out of Emily's way, legs spread wide like a man. Emily would normally be inclined to tease the older woman about how unladylike she looks, but she's too annoyed and preoccupied on this morning.

"Say I'm right. Say he's an awful, stupid cad."

"You're right and he's an awful, stupid cad." Jo replies flatly.

Emily huffs, spinning around to face the older woman, the hand that's not clutching her sword coming up to rest on her hip. "Alright, fine, forget what I want you to say, what are you thinking?"

"You won't like it."

"Tell me anyway."

"You haven't given up on him, either, is all."

Emily scowls. "I've been telling you, it must be the past two hours now I've been telling you…"

"I _know _what you've been telling me, and I'm telling you, you've got it wrong. You can't possibly have given up on him if he can still make you so angry. The opposite of love is _indifference_, not hate, Peg. What your feeling is too intense for a woman who's given up."

Emily rolls her eyes. "Honestly, Jo, where do you come up with such things?"

Jo is scowling now, at herself it seems since she isn't looking at Emily. "By the old gods. I sound like my mother." A smile pulls at Emily's lips. Jo looks back up at her, blushing lightly as she shrugs. "Well, she usually knew what she was talking about."

"I have no idea what _you're _talking about."

"Just – give Alex a break. He loves you, but you've only just bothered to say so back. Now that you've finally got that out of the way, maybe…"

"Maybe. I'm starting to get sick of 'maybe'." Glancing down at the sword still in her hand, she sheaths it with a huff. Practice hadn't helped much.

So far, not much has.

* * *

><p>Transformation spells are not too hard power wise. Emily has quickly found that no type of magic can, in fact, easily exhaust her power. This is one of those things about magic – and particularly <em>her own <em>magic – that frightens her most. So that's not what the trick is with transformations. No, the trick with these spells is concentration.

The funny thing is, she's actually gotten better at control and focus since she and Alex had had their big fight. But she can't always keep herself focused on the right things. A books cover ends up made of silk because that's the gift Alex had presented her with that morning. Too embarrassed to refocus her thoughts, she puts more power behind it and ends up making the entire book made of silk, with an embroidered flower that looks like the ones Alex had got her. Embarrassed and getting quite sick of Alex being the only thing she can think about, she allows more power to build than she's dared to before and watches as the silk reforms itself into flowers – which is to say, they appear to be flowers with real stems and silk petals. The sight is so odd that Ana stops her there and asks if she can keep the odd bouquet.

And that's not even the strangest when it comes to her misadventures with this particular magic. Ana presents her with a small old bird she'd been keeping as a pet, and Emily first turns it into a kitten because there'd been a cat trying to makes its home on the _Queen_. (It's small and brown and rather mangy, but it seems to like Emily, and she's contemplating letting it stay.) Ana scowls – the idea had been to make the bird young and healthy again, although the smooth transformation into an entirely different animal is impressive to say the least. Emily wonders if she'll even be able manage turning it back now, but tries again anyway. But she's still thinking of the cat. A cat could be useful for taking care of rats down in the hold, she's thinking, and so the poor creature before her ends up a large, ugly bilge rat – with wings and a birds beak and a mouth more like a cats. It even starts mewing.

Emily and Jo both end up too busy laughing to reverse it. Ana's the one who finally puts the poor thing out of its misery as it attempts to fly across the room – a flick of her wrist and it turns back into the small bird, perhaps just a bit healthier than it had been before.

Emily's still determined that she won't be using her magic once she learns all Ana's insists on trying to teach her, but has to admit, if ever she feels the need to put it all to good use… transformation could be a useful way to do it. Provided, of course, she can manage to make the transformation into something vaguely useful.

"Emmy, Emmy!" That's her brother's voice, just outside Ana's door. He's pounding on it, sounding frantic. Ana crosses the room quickly to let him in. He stops short upon seeing her. "Sorry, miss." He stutters before peering around her. "Emmy, you have to come quick, it's Alex and that – that other boy, Riley, papa says they'll kill each other!"

Jo's the one who answers him first, scowling at what he must mean. "Oh, it would be just like Alex to start a duel, wouldn't it?"

Emily doesn't answer, just shakes her head as it sinks in and then she's darting across the room. She slips past Ana, who says nothing as she moves out of the way, and Joshy follows close behind her.

"Alex didn't start it!" He's quick to correct, and Emily never thought she'd see the day when her boys even sort of got along, much less started defending each other. "Riley's the one who wanted a fight!"

"Oh, I could strangle them _both!_" She near growls as she storms down to the docks, her baby brother hot on her heels.

…

Riley's not usually this hot-headed. Really, he isn't. In fact, usually, he's the one trying desperately to avoid a fight. But Miss Emily had told him about Alex and what had happened and she'd asked him to leave it alone, said she was fine, but she isn't fine. Everyone can see she isn't. And he knows this won't fix it, but seeing the pretty, tough little captain such a mess and having the cause of it standing right in front of him – it makes him angry. Angry enough that for the first time, a fight is exactly what he wants.

He's got one, now. He just hopes he can win, because judging by the hard, mean glint in his opponent's eyes – losing isn't an option.

Alex is good. Very, very good. So is Riley, but he's not half as experienced, though he'd never admit it. And he's wiry, not as strong. Alex is a young man, grown and tall and strapping and – and about as moveable as a brick wall. Riley's only advantage is that he's a little quicker on his feet, but he's not dead yet, so he figures it's advantage enough and just keeps moving and maybe if he can tire the older boy out…

They both freeze, involuntary, at the sound of a pistol being fired.

"What do you two think you're doing?" Her voice, which would normally be music to his ears, is low and dangerous calm.

"Miss Emily." Riley stutters a bit, glancing in her direction, but he's not stupid enough to turn away from Alex just yet. "I can – it's just –"

"This _whelp_," Alex interjects, "thought 'e could pick a fight with me and win. I was just in the process of provin 'im _dead_ wrong."

Riley brings his sword back up, not liking the way 'dead' had been stressed.

"Put the sword away. Both of you." She snaps, demanding. "Riley, you're an _idiot_. Alex, if you hurt him, you'll never step foot on my ship again."

Alex makes no move to do as she'd asked, so Riley doesn't move a muscle.

"Alex!" Emily exclaims. "I could force you!" She adds. "Both of you, like I did with Peter. I will if I must!"

Alex glances in her direction now, and there's something behind his eyes that maybe, just a little bit, resembles fear. He lowers his sword. Warily, Riley does the same and turns to Emily.

She relaxes a bit, scowling at him. "Are you trying to get yourself killed?"

Riley glances at Alex, standing tall. "I wasn't going to get myself killed." It doesn't come out with as much confidence as he'd hoped. He goes on none the less, stronger this time. "Besides, you're worth it, Miss Emily."

She only shakes her head, clearly exasperated as she turns away from him and storms over to Alex, standing toe to toe with him. Alex has several inches on her, to spite Emily's being a bit tall for a girl, so it's rather strange to think that Emily's the one who looks mean and intimidating and very much in charge. "What the hell are you thinking?"

"What am _I _thinkin? He came after –"

"So help me, Alex, if you're going to tell me he started it, gods above, what are you, ten?"

He glowers at her, seeming unfazed by her attitude. "_He came after me_, what was I meant to do, let 'im skewer me?"

"No, of course not, but you could've sent his sword flying across the deck in seconds, I should know, we've practiced that move enough, you were _toying _with him!"

Riley abruptly feels very out of place here. The way they talk to each other, the way neither seems perturbed by the other being so _close_ – it never occurred to him before, just how well these two must know each other.

"...s'not my fault he's got it in 'is 'ead defendin you is 'is job, s'ppose I shouldn't blame 'im either, eh, with the way you've been battin your eyes at 'im!"

"With the way _I've _been…what about the pretty little strumpet you had fawning over you a few nights past? Don't you _dare _think you can go scolding me for…"

"Miss Emily." Riley says, raising his voice just a bit.

"What!" She snaps, rounding on him.

"I'm sorry." He says, more subdued. "I'm – not sure of what came over me. Only, you've been so upset these past few days. It just, it made me angry. You deserve better. But I understand. It wasn't my place to try coming to your rescue."

Alex scoffs, looking incredulous as Emily softens a touch. "Oh, Riley." She sighs. "You're right. It wasn't your place because it is nobodies place now," she glances at Alex, "if it ever was." She comes forward, and Riley braces himself – but there's no need. She merely studies him a moment, big brown eyes turning sad as she takes his hand. "No bodies place but mine, alright? Promise me you won't try anything like this again, not over me."

"But – Miss Emily…"

"Riley. Promise me." She says, more firm.

What is it about this woman that makes her impossible to refuse? "Alright. I promise."

She nods, locking eyes with him a moment, still looking so sad. She squeezes his hand, lets it go, turns to glower at Sparrow one last time, and then leaves them both where they stand.

* * *

><p>"What's this about, then?" Will Turner is standing right before him. His arms are crossed and his eyes are hard but he's willing to listen. He's willing to <em>listen<em>.

So why can't Alex get anything to come out of his mouth? What is it about Emily's papa that has Alex's belly twisting it's self in knots as his hands grow slick with sweat? Perhaps it's Emily's fault, this fear. She cares what her papa thinks, although Alex can't fathom why at this point, but she does. If Alex wants Emily Turner to be properly his, he has to have Will Turner's approval first, and he really doesn't think he'll ever earn that, and that – is frightening, truly. Trembling under the older man's expectant gaze, Alex takes a breath. "Right. S'ppose I'd best just come out with it. Sir, I'd like permission to marry yer daughter. Or," he adds hastily, hating himself for the way he stutters, "or at least, sir, I'd like to know what I could ever do to earn that permission."

He expects the older man to be angry, but he doesn't appear to be. He studies Alex a moment, very calm. "Well, coming to talk to me is a start, I'll give you that. I suppose she sent you?"

"Sir?"

"Emily. I know she was hoping for the two of us to have a proper conversation."

Alex lets out a nervous laugh. "No. Emily didn't – Emily's not even talkin to me just now, sir. That's why I want to propose, see." Turner looks skeptical now. Alex holds his hands up in surrender, plowing on. "I know it sounds strange. It's just she thinks I don't love 'er. She thinks – aw, I don't know what she thinks anymore. Thing is, I thought she wanted a pirate, wanted me to be more the rogue." He never babbles like this, but he thinks that maybe, just maybe, if he can explain somehow… "And I'm good at it, I'll give ye that. I make myself sick with how good at it I am sometimes. And she seemed to like it for a while but the other night we…she told me otherwise, is all, and I'm worried about 'er cause she gets impulsive when she's upset like she 'as been so I figure if I ask to marry me and mean it maybe we can start to fix it."

Silence again. Turner scrutinizes him again, so intense it sets Alex to squirming. "Do you love her?" He asks finally.

"More n' I could put into words." Alex replies without hesitation. "Certainly more n' than the _whelp _she's been runnin' round with." He adds, voice lowering to a growl.

Now Turner looks amused. "Whelp?"

"The Navy boy she rescued few weeks back, 'fore we pulled in here at Shipwreck. They've been awful close 'ere lately. Seems like if she's not busy gettin drunk ye can be sure she'll be flirtin with 'im." This is an exaggeration. Ana and Jo have been drilling Emily in her magic so hard, she's scarce been left with too much free time, and he has no real evidence that Emily and Riley have done anything untoward in the past weeks. Worried he's just made the very wrong move, he goes on hastily. "Sorry sir, that was – me mouth 'as a tendency to take on a life of its own, as it were, I just…" He trails off, cursing himself, and finally meets the older man's eyes again.

Turner has his eyebrows raised and, if Alex isn't mistaken, there's a smirk playing at his lips. "Easy boy, I have eyes. I know what my daughters been up to." The amusement fades. "It's good to know I'm not the only one that worries. She tends to make a point of disregarding most of what I say."

"I doubt she'll be much different with me now, sir."

"Would you be willing to consider my advice?"

Some proud, head strong part of Alex wants to say that no, he certainly does not need advice from Emily's papa, of all people, but the fact is… "Actually, sir, at this particular point in time, I'd welcome it."

"If Emily's anything like her mother once was, and trust when I say she very much can be, then all she needs from you is to know that you worry. Her walls only come up when she thinks there's a chance you don't care. You say this display you put on, flirting as she says you do, is because you thought she wanted it on some level?"

"Aye, sir. Honest, it is."

"I can believe it. I did something similar to win her mother over, and, well, we can all see how that ended up. It's a charm they have naturally, and I wasn't her mother's only victim. You want to know what you need to do in order to be good enough for my Emily? Show me you have the guts not to let her back you into the same corner her mother did me."

There's a pause as Alex processes this. "Sir? Ye're saying – ye want me to confront 'er?"

"I'm saying that if you love her, you'll do just that."

* * *

><p>"But 'e's killed ole Tom, 'e 'as, and 'e put a bullet it me arm!"<p>

"Yah don't mean ta let 'im get away with it, do yah Cap'n?"

"With all respect, Cap'n, somethin's gott'a be done!"

It's unanimous. The entire crew agrees. Timothy Andrews and Peter Montgomery have to answer for the man they killed somehow. She gets several suggestions, all of them a demand for blood, each one a little more gruesome than the next. She thinks it over hard. She tries to come up with some other way, but the truth is, she agrees with her men. She's allowed this to go on because she's enjoyed toying with Andrews, but enough is enough.

She'll make it quick for Peter, she decides, feeling that allowing herself to be cruel will only make her little better than the Admiral. Quick and fairly painless, with Andrews right there to watch, and then she'll send Andrews off the first chance she gets. Let him run right back to the Admiral with a story to tell. The Admiral thinks he can threaten her and all she holds dear? Well, that's a declaration of war if ever she's heard one, and she intends for the first move to be hers.

(Of course she knows that doing what she needs to will have the side effect of forcing Riley to see the truth about her, but she'll just have to cross that particular bridge when she comes to it.)

* * *

><p>The sky is cloudy again. It's well past midnight now, and the resulting darkness matches her gloomy mood perfectly. She's sitting down by the docks again, on her stomach this time, head propped in one hand while her other hangs down to trace patterns in the water, the glow of a single lantern her only source of light and a bottle resting next to her. With only about a week and a half left until her mother's allotted day on land, sleep is hovering even further out of Emily's grasp than usual, and there are some nights that she doesn't even try anymore.<p>

It's boredom that prompts her this time. She's staring down into the water and remembering the night she realized she could control it. Before she has time to second guess or scold herself, she opens the dam and allows the power to build inside her a moment, focusing on the water. Sure enough, just as it had the first time, thin tendrils travel up out of the water, circle her hand hovering above it, form a ball. She eyes the swirling mass a moment, then sits herself up, curious. Turning to the barrel her lantern is sitting on, she hauls back and throws the water ball. It stays intact right up until it hits the barrel hard enough to send it wobbling.

Turning back to the water, she sets a few more tendrils to swirling up and traversing the few inches now between her and the water. For a moment she just plays with it a bit, watching as the tendrils wind their way up her arm, but her shirt remains dry. Interesting.

Something occurs to her. Climbing to her feet, she glances around a bit. There's no one around. It's so late – or early, to be more accurate – that even anyone at the taverns will have long since found some place to pass out. Besides, she's just confident enough with her magic now that she's sure she can defend herself with it if she absolutely needed to.

Preparing to test a theory, she removes her vest, all her affects. Her boot as she sits back down with her feet dangling over the edge of the dock. The last to go is her brace. Taking a deep breath in, she plunges into the water.

It's – rather more chilly than one might expect, but nothing she wasn't prepared for. She doesn't stay submerged for too long, bobbing back up to the surface. She lifts her arm out of the water, runs a hand through her hair. She's thoroughly soaked, as she should be. She'd half thought, since the water swirling up her arm earlier hadn't touched her clothes… but perhaps that had been silly. Ah well.

She's just about to work her way back out of the water when another thought invades her over active mind. She remembers, trying to rescue her papa. After the old _Queen _had gone over the waterfall, Emily had been under water for so long…

And just now. She'd surfaced scarcely winded at all.

She dives back down, farther, farther…so far her lungs should already being feeling the strain. But they aren't. She's fine. Turning herself upright, or at least what she _hopes _is upright, as she's lost sight of the dim light provided by her lantern, she works her way back to the surface again at a leisurely pace and makes it easy. No more out of breath than if she'd only been under a few seconds.

Well. Something to do with her being basically immortal? She doesn't know. Her stomach twists at the thought, though. Yet another thing that could come in handy. Resisting the use of the power granted her is starting to sound harder and harder a task. With all the usual fear and uncertainty abruptly twisting her gut again, she pulls herself out of the water, reattaches her wooden leg, collects her things, and hurriedly heads back to her cabin.

* * *

><p>He wants to do what Turner had suggested. What the older man said had made a lot of sense, in truth, and Alex is in no position to be rejecting anyone's advice, much less the advice of someone who does have some experience in these matters. Well, someone who has experience and isn't Alex's father, because Jack is <em>Jack<em>. But the thing is, it's not that simple. Emily's – well, Emily. She's avoiding him, and putting on a façade when she doe see him, a very convincing one too.

It's a good thing he knows better. But he has to have a good excuse if he's going to start the argument they need to have if they're to move on. It's about a week and a half until Emily's mother will have her one day when he finally gets his chance, and it's all thanks to Jo that he does.

"I'm almost jealous, really." Jo and Emily are taking a walk, probably just getting some air as Emily's been cooped up all morning practicing her magic. "Transformation is a tiring and complicated sort of magic. I can scarce manage to make a book bigger or smaller, much less keep a living thing, well, _living _while working on it."

Alex has been waiting to talk to Jo, in truth, but now he hides behind some barrels as the girls approach, pausing just at the start of the dock leading up to the _Queen_. Emily's started refusing to talk about her magic around him; she'll be unhappy he's eavesdropping, but he's curious.

Emily's eyes flash with something – but it's gone too quick to be identified. She appears unbothered as she answers. "Well, let's not forget the rat-bird incident, that poor creature. I'm not sure I'd be willing to risk transforming anything in a pinch, it'd probably end in nothing but disaster."

"Well, sure, but with just a bit more practice, think what you _could _manage. I mean, for example, easy as you can make things happen, you'd never have to worry about being caught unarmed, would you? A little practice and all you'd have to do is pick up the nearest object, think 'pistol', and there you have it!"

Emily doesn't share Jo's excitement, Alex suspects, but she's trying to pretend she does. "I suppose. Only, it's really not that easy. I mean, I'd still need loads of practice yet."

"Well, we get through all this business with your mother and we'll keep working on it. You'll have that old Admiral running scared before you know it, just you watch Cap'n." Jo smiles, a little playful. "Any way, come on. Ana's expecting us back before not too long."

"Ah, I had one of your books in my cabin, there was something I wanted to ask about. You go on ahead, I'll get the book and catch you up."

Jo doesn't seem to notice anything off, but then Emily seems to be getting better at hiding the emotions she usually wears on her sleeve. The older woman only nods and heads off.

Emily boards the ship. Alex follows, stealthy as he can manage. They do end up down in her cabin; her back is angled to the door. She does take out one of Jo's books, so perhaps she hadn't been lying, but it's what she does next that presents him with his opportune moment. Opening the usual drawer in her desk, she takes out a bottle and brings it to her lips for a long drink, her shoulders relaxing visibly as she does.

Well, now he knows why she's got better at hiding her emotions. Steal away for a nip of rum often enough and she doesn't even have to face them herself. Anger swells at how selfish of her this seems.

A board creaks beneath his feet. She spins around, looking surprised more than angry until she realizes it's him and relaxes again. "Oh."

He snorts. "Oh? S'that all I get now, 'oh'?"

She shoots him a half-hearted glare. "What do you want, Sparrow?"

Sparrow. He's always just Sparrow now. He crosses his arms and stands straight and tall. "I want Emily." He tells her plain.

She huffs. "She's right here. Unless I could somehow not be myself."

"No. She isn't. She went away. This," he gestures to all of her, "is not my Emily."

There's the glare again. "Well, not yours anymore, that's for certain." She sips from the bottle again.

"Oh, but see, she went away long before that. Ye asked what I want. I want 'er back."

"Well, I still don't know what you're asking." She snaps back with a sudden burst of her usual fire. The mirror hanging from her wall rattles, and the window swings open seemingly of its own accord. Really, its Emily's magic, responding to her sudden swing in mood. A moment passes as she freezes, closing her eyes. "I wouldn't even begin to know how to bring 'your Emily' back at this point." She brings the bottle to her lips once more.

The tone to her voice, the sudden apathy she's displaying, the casual way she clutches the bottle and swigs the amber liquid… she's reminding him of her papa. Really, _really _reminding him, the way he's been reminding everyone of his own father. A mixture of worry and disgust and anger settles in his belly and grows heavy until something inside him goes _snap_ and before he can even think about it he's stalking across the room. He snatches the bottle out of her grasp so abruptly and with such vehemence that a good amount spills on their boots, and before she can react he's continuing across to the still open window. He tosses the bottle out of it, takes out his pistol, and shoots it midair, and then just watches as the broken glass and coveted liquid sail into the waters beneath them with a series of splashes that are somehow satisfying.

"What the _hell_," her tone is bewildered, "is the matter with you, Sparrow?"

He spins back around to face her, shoving the pistol back into his belt. "I'm more concerned with whatever's the matter with you."

"I'm not the one getting trigger happy over a bottle of rum." She places a hand on her hip and eyes him with that 'your completely mad' look she likes to favor him with whenever she feels like not listening to a word he says.

"We. _Are not_. Our parents." He near growls. "Don't ye understand? Peg, we've got to stop this, both of us, or we'll just tear ourselves apart."

She scowls, but even it isn't as fierce as usual. "Stop _what?_"

"You know what!"

"No, I don't. You say we aren't our parents? Looked in a mirror lately? I mean, the way you swagger about, spending your nights in taverns with wenches in your lap. I _wonder _why my papa was so quick to decide he didn't like you." The words are dripping with sarcasm, a sure sign that her most recent dip into the bottle isn't her first one this day. She always gets snarky.

"Have I…" He lets out an incredulous laugh. "Have I looked in the mirror? Why don't you?"

Now her eyes narrow, and there's the hint of his girl he's been hoping for. He's finally hit the right nerve. She snatches up the book on the desk and makes as if to slip past him. "I have to get back, Jo and Ana'll be waiting."

He blocks her path, hovering over her. She looks up at him, eyes hardening further. He stands his ground. "Ye don't get to keep runnin from this."

"Sparrow." There's something dangerous to her tone now, a warning. Usually, he would back off. He loves her and doesn't like to push her, hates fighting with her. But her papa's words echo in his head.

"…_ye want me to confront 'er?"_

"_If you love her, you'll do just that."_

"Ye're papa an' I, we 'ad a talk. And I'm still alive! How about that? And ye know what? He all but gave me 'is blessin, 'e did. All I 'ad to do is be man enough to tell you that these past months? Since we first met up again right 'ere in Shipwreck? It's all been a lie."

She wasn't expecting this. Her brows furrow. "What?"

"Remember that fun afternoon – two years passed now, can ye believe it? – when I first worked up the courage to tell ye I loved ye and ye panicked and scolded me for…lessee if I'm rememberin right. I believe ye're exact words were 'developin a proper moral compass'. Remember that? Well, see, I really am an idiot, 'cause I decided that if ye wanted some kind of no good scoundrel of a pirate, then I'd give ye one, anythin to make ye 'appy." She winces, but he plows on, relentless. "Only, I've got a little too comfortable, see. Not on purpose, but ye keep up the same act consistent enough and it seems it becomes real. Now, that's my fault, not yers, don't get me wrong, darlin. And I'll fix it. Might take time, but I will."

She continues to glare up at him, guarded. "I'll believe it when I see it." She tries to slip past him again.

"Ah," he moves to block her path again, "but you 'ave to do somethin for me in return."

She places her free hand on her hip, cutting in again. "Oh, this ought to be good."

He opens his mouth, but finds he doesn't know how to go on. It's strange because he's really not used to simply not having the words. It's just – the rum, the games she's been playing with Andrews and Riley, the secrets he _knows _she's keeping. But he doesn't know how to explain in a way that'll make her listen.

"Were you telling the truth?" She asks when he doesn't say anything. "About Adrienne?"

He huffs, exasperated. "How many times must I tell ye – _yes!"_

She studies him, then nods. "Alright. No more games, then, tell me plain. What do you want?"

"I did tell you plain." He answers, because it's the best he's got. "I want _Emily _back. Don't tell me ye don't know what that means. I think ye know very well."

She closes her eyes. "I have to go. Really, I do, Jo'll be getting worried, and then later this afternoon I've got Andrews to deal with again and I – I can't think." She looks back up at him. "Give me time to think?"

He softens, bringing a hand up to cup her cheek gently as he leans down to plant a kiss on her forehead. "Ye're wish…"

She snorts softly and beats a hasty retreat.

* * *

><p>Why does he have to keep doing this? Turning Emily's world right on its side, over and over again? And it's even worse this time because she knows it's all her fault now. Alex started out trying to give her just what she'd wanted, so it's all her own fault that she can't stand what she's got out of it. Her hands are shaking, knuckles white as she clasps the book in her arms, her feet taking her back to Ana and Jo without Emily having to think about it.<p>

What happens now? She still doesn't quite understand what he wants of her. 'His Emily' didn't _go away_, she just decided to grow up. It had to happen. Why can't he just leave it alone?

She stops just outside Ana's tavern, leaning against a wall, closing her eyes and taking several deep breaths. She tries desperately to once again grab ahold of the calm she's been managing to keep; it takes a moment or two, but the shaking stops, and the tears that were threatening recede, probably helped by the rum she'd got down before Alex snatched it away.

Why does everyone keep doing that to her, anyway?

"Oh! I was just coming to find you." Jo loops an arm through Emily's. "You alright? You're pale as a ghost!"

"Fine." Emily replies. "Just another strange conversation with Sparrow, that's all."

Jo looks skeptical, but knows better than to ask by now, and starts chattering on about something to do with Captain Kristoff as she leads Emily back up to Ana.

* * *

><p><em><strong>I can't seem to fix this chapter quite the way I want it. That last conversation with Emily and Alex feels off to me but I'm calling it done so I can just move on. Reviews please? <strong>_

_**Oh, and I just realized I've got Captain Kristoff's name spelled two different ways. In fact the way I'm spelling it now is the way I liked it to begin with, although I'm not sure where I got this spelling from because my computer doesn't even recognize it (which is, incidentally, why it changed itself to **_**Chris_toff the first time I introduced him). Anyway, just wanted to be sure no one got confused. :) _**


	62. Time to Go

_**Warning: this first scene is, I think, just a little dark even for me, although it was necessary.**_

* * *

><p>"You've made a decision, then?" Riley. His voice is void of emotion.<p>

They're on the _Queen_. The deck is crowded with some other members of Emily's crew, including those who had been caught more directly in the crossfire during Andrews' would be escape. There is a rope hanging down from the lowest beam of the main mast, a noose swinging in the breeze. It's taken a lot of thought for her to come to this decision. It's not her only option, maybe, but it is her best one. She'd had to personally inform Captain Teague of her plan – Shipwreck wasn't generally supposed to be made the setting for scenes like this, but Teague had agreed after she'd explained her reasoning.

Emily doesn't turn to look at Riley. She doesn't want to see whatever emotion might be written across his face. "I don't have too many options."

A pause. "Peter's really not – not like them. Captain Andrews has just been relentless…and he's been raised a gentleman, he hasn't known harder times. Not like…" He trails off. He'd been about to say 'not like us', she knows. With what she's about to do, though, she has a feeling she's finally destroying whatever little fantasy they'd had with each other. "He doesn't deserve this."

Perhaps this is alright, though. Perhaps it's high time that fantasy of theirs does end. She steels herself. "He killed one of my men. The near escape I could've over looked. But the rest of my men expect Andrews to be repaid in kind."

"Please don't do that, Captain."

The reply is unexpected enough that she finally allows herself to turn and look at him. There's a hardness to his eyes that she's never seen before. "Do what?" She asks.

"I can believe your men want revenge. I can even, I think, understand them wanting it in this case. But please don't lie to me. This isn't about that. It's about how it'll make you look if you let them both go now."

"You were right. It's all about survival here." She reminds him. "Riley, how far do you think I'll get if I allow the Admiral to think there's only so far I'll go?"

"I suppose I just hoped…" He sounds almost pleading. "You're so very clever, Miss Emily. It never ceases to amaze me. Surely you can manage some other way?"

"Honestly? You have no idea how much of my time is often taken up with thinking of ways to do just that." She confesses.

"Then do it again now. Miss Emily, I'm asking you, please."

She almost wants to give in, just because it's Riley asking. But no. If she's going to send Andrews off with any kind of story to tell, it's going to be the story of the woman who can be no less ruthless than the pirates she counts herself among. She can't afford to be anything less. She stands tall, more Peg than Emily now. "No. I've made my decision."

She orders Andrews and Peter brought up on deck as Alex and Jo appear next to her. Thankfully, her papa had eagerly agreed to be the one to keep Joshy occupied for a time, so she doesn't have to worry about her brother.

Peter doesn't say a word, though there is no small amount of fear behind his eyes as he stands on the barrel set beneath the noose. Emily watches, careful to wear a mask of cold indifference, as the noose is looped around his neck. Andrews is silent as well. There is a flicker of sadness behind his eyes as he looks up at his loyal midshipman. Emily thinks, on some level, that it is nice to know that even the cold, defiant Navy man might very well be human beneath the uniform.

Peg just sneers at him, for a moment feeling a cruel sort of amusement at the display. "Is that regret I see? This is, in its entirety, your fault, Mr. Andrews. You thought you could play games with me, and you've lost." His jaw clenches, and he sends her a glare so sharp and cold she can almost feel a dagger of ice being driven through her skull; he says nothing, however. "Nothing to say before I send Peter here off to the Locker? Very well. A word of advice, Mr. Montgomery – if you should have the misfortune of meeting up with my mother, you might well do best to say 'no'." And she does hope he'll take that advice, because as things stand now, being pulled into serving on the _Flying_ _Dutchman _isn't a fate she'd wish on anyone.

Peter meets her eyes, just for a moment, and the fear behind them should do _something _to her. She should feel guilty or pleased or – anything. But she feels nothing, is entirely numb. Turning to the crewmen given the grim task of being executioner, she nods once.

The barrel is kicked away, and all goes silent as the rope creeks and swings and the figure at the end of it struggles in the very way she'd been hoping he wouldn't. Most everyone on deck watches with a morbid satisfaction; Jo turns away with a shake of her head after a brief moment, looking perhaps a bit green about the gills. She retreats with a practiced calm, however.

All too aware of Riley, still standing resolutely at her side, Emily gives out a small measure of mercy. Taking out her own pistol, she aims and shoots, looking away herself as Peter falls limp, his suffering cut short, if a little violently. Having previously given instructions for cleaning up now that the deed is done, she turns and makes sure to avoid looking at either Riley or Alex as she follows Jo's path off the ship.

* * *

><p>She's thankful when she doesn't even see Alex or Riley over the course of the day; she knows they'll both be judging her for what she'd just done. She wishes they would understand. As loyal as her crew are, keeping them happy is still important. Demanding blood for blood isn't an uncommon occurrence on a pirate ship, this is simply the way of things.<p>

Thankfully, Jo and Emily's papa seem to understand perfectly, though they may not like it. This is fine, anyway, since Emily didn't actually get any real pleasure out of the whole thing, and she supposes this is a good sign – it would be far more worrying if she did.

* * *

><p>"I've been looking through Jo's books the past few nights, just out of curiosity." Emily lays the book out on the table, Ana and Jo coming up on either side of her as she flips the pages. "And I found something that I thought could maybe be useful."<p>

"Just one thing?" Jo raises a brow.

"Well, just the one for now." Emily concedes as she comes to the right page. "Ah. Here it is."

The top of the page reads simply 'Devotion'. Ana shoos her out of the way to hover over the table, skimming the pages contents. "There are spells similar to this in just about every book you'll find. This one seems simple enough. Red rose petals, might be hard to find around these parts, but we could manage." She turns back to Emily, one hand coming up to rest on her hip. "Why would you be needing a spell like this, though?'

"The clock's ticking. Mother's one day is in little more than a week now. I'm not worried about finding the Chest, as long as mother doesn't manage to snatch Uncle's compass from me, finding her heart should be no trouble. The problem is, we also need the key."

"I told you you'd come up with something." Jo says, no doubt recognizing Emily's tone. "What's the plan, then?"

"Well, that's what I'm trying to work out. I can't go and get the key myself, mother will be suspicious no matter what I come up with to get myself on the _Dutchman._ Alex has already said he'd be willing to try, but there is no _trying _with my mother, we all know what failure means."

"This spell might be even more useful than you think." Ana's been studying the book some more. "Emily, do you understand what this is saying?"

Emily blushes lightly. "Erm, not entirely. That's why I thought to ask you."

"If done right, this spell would form a connection between you and the person you cast it on. A bond that would allow them, woman _or _man, the use of your power with as much control as you yourself have over it."

Emily's eyes widen. "Really? That's – even better than I was expecting, actually."

"Of course, it's not quite that simple." Ana's tone turns warning as she reads further. "Dividing the power would leave you weaker, for one thing. And in order for it to work properly, this person must feel some sort of bond with you already… Oh. Oh, dear."

"What?"

"This spell wasn't designed to be exactly pleasant, it seems. Casting it requires you to earn a kiss from your victim. They are put into a trance like state, unable to feel pain and only vaguely aware of their own actions. This is a fair bit closer to the darker magic's than I'm used to dealing with, I'm afraid."

Emily's shoulders slump. Well, alright, so it doesn't sound the most pleasant. But if whoever she casts it on will be unable to feel pain, won't even really know what they're doing… "Would you help me anyway?" She asks Ana, but glances at Jo as well. "If I could find someone I thought it would work on, would you help me do it anyway? I mean, you've seen what I can do with my power. If I can allow someone else the use of if just long enough to snatch the key for me… I mean, it should be a piece of cake."

Ana sighs. "I suppose. Mind, whatever happens, it'd be on your head, not mine."

Emily shrugs, unbothered. Or, at least, trying to be. "I can live with that." It comes out sounding even more careless than she'd meant it to. Ana and Jo exchange a look. "I don't see as I have much choice." Emily defends.

"Alex would still be your best option." Jo points out, albeit with reluctance.

Will he be? Emily's not so sure, because there is Riley…

Riley who _wants _to hate her now, she can tell, but if the looks she's still getting are anything to go by, he doesn't. And perhaps it's really very awful of her, but she's going to use this to her advantage, because if it's a choice between Alex and anyone – there's just nothing for it. She's always going to choose Alex.

Besides. Riley will be fine. And if he isn't, Ana had taught Emily some healing magic, so he _will be. _There's no way she can't win this. She refuses to believe there is.

* * *

><p>"Riley?"<p>

He freezes at her voice, tensing. They haven't talked since she'd decided to execute Peter yesterday, and although his feelings on the matter are mixed in a way that has him disgusted with himself, he knows he should be angry with her. But it's still _her_. There's just something about Miss Emily that makes her impossible to hate. He's begun to realize that Captain Andrews may have actually been really, very right about Miss Emily in a lot of ways. He turns to her and forces himself to show no emotion. "Captain." He greets stiffly.

Her brown eyes are soft, a worried frown playing at her lips. "Can we talk?"

"I'm not sure there's much left for us to talk about." But he walks with her anyway.

"I just wanted to apologize for –," she falters a bit, glancing at him, "yesterday. I mean, I need you to believe … I _am _sorry for your friend. But you have to understand, my crew were asking, demanding…"

They've reached a deserted portion of the corridor. He stops to look at her. The tone of her voice, the look on her face; she won't meet his eyes. She seems shaken in a way he hasn't seen her before, even after the fight she'd had with Sparrow. "I do believe you, Miss Emily." He says.

She seems startled at this, her pretty brown eyes darting up to meet his green ones. "Well – really?"

He studies her a moment. "Yes." He decides. "Really. But that doesn't excuse…"

"I know. Oh, it's alright Riley, you'd be well within your rights to hate my guts. I'm just…" She trails off as though catching herself, arms crossing in a way that makes her look tiny and almost vulnerable.

"Just what?" He asks, gently now.

"A little lonely. With Alex and I no longer speaking, it feels like I'm missing something, and now there's this problem with my mother… but, oh, I'm being silly, just listen to me." She stares down at her arms, playing with her sleeve a bit.

"No." He hesitates, then slowly reaches out a hand to cover hers, stilling it. "It's alright, Miss Emily. I mean, if you needed someone to… What's the problem with your mother?" She'd told him a bit about it, her mother and the _Flying Dutchman_ and all that. He doesn't understand it all, not fully, but he has decided to believe her if for no other reason than because he's not sure how anyone could make it all up.

"It's so much to explain, and it's hardly your problem." She peers back up at him from beneath her lashes. "You see, it's just…"

He listens with rapt attention as she goes on to explain about a Chest, an old key, and a spell that might just help in retrieving it…

* * *

><p>"Tell me ye aren't actually planning to do it." Is Alex's greeting when next she sees him. They're in Ana's tavern again, downstairs now as she'd been having dinner – with Riley, incidentally. Alex glances at Riley, but does little else in the way of acknowledging his presence.<p>

Emily leans back in her chair, crossing her arms. "Hello to you too, Sparrow. You've been talking to Jo, then?"

"She was only too eager to 'and this problem off to someone else, and I don't blame 'er. Ye can't possibly think this will work."

"Well, I don't see anyone else coming up with a better suggestion."

"I won't do it." Alex lunges forward, bracing himself on the table so he's leaning over her, earning him a few worried glances from the barmaids around. "I won't be ye're little _puppet _and I can't believe ye'd even think to ask!"

Emily stares up at him, as impassive as she has been since he started in on her. "I haven't asked anyone, Alex." She glances at Riley. "Wasn't actually planning to." It's only sort of a lie. It's perhaps more accurate to say that she'd been sure with the right tactics she wouldn't actually _need _to ask anyone, but she's not bothering with such nuances.

Alex studies her a moment, then backs off with a huff. "Playin games again? Seems to be what we do best. Alright, I'll play along. What were ye plannin, then?"

"I wasn't sure, to be honest." She reaches for her drink. "And then I caught up with my brave midshipman here," she offers Riley a small smile, "and we worked it all out."

"Did ye, now?" Alex eyes the mug in her hands and then turns to Riley, as if only just really taking note of his presence. "What did she say, then? Did she bat her eyes all sweet n' pretty like, apologize for tying a noose 'round yer friends neck, like she cared?" Riley glances at Emily, uncertain. "She's spent the past week in it's entirety 'alf in the bottle I think, so whatever she told ye, I'd forget it an' run for the 'ills, boy, while ye still can."

"Well, I…" Riley doesn't seem to know what to say.

"Sparrow! Yes, I apologized, and I meant every word, for heaven's sake!" She turns to Riley as she shoves her mug back onto the table. "He's just angry because I decided he could keep his pretty little whores since he seems so much more interested in them than me. He'll blame our little spat on anything as long as it isn't himself, plain and simple."

Riley meets her eyes, searching them. He looks troubled, but his voice is firm when he finally answers Alex, not taking his eyes off Emily. "I've already told her that I'll help. I understand there's some sort of real danger involved, but I…" His green eyes soften a touch. "I trust Miss Emily."

She's making herself sick at this point, because she thinks this is exactly what she'd promised herself she wouldn't do to Riley, but she's come too far to back out now. "Thank you, Riley." She looks up at Alex, haughty.

He only shakes his head before storming back out of the tavern.

* * *

><p>She's draped herself in the window seat, the window swung open to let in the cool night air. Staring up at the pretty white crescent that is the moon, she sings softly to herself the tune her mother had taught her once upon a time.<p>

'Drink up me hearties, yo ho.  
>Yo ho, yo ho, a pirate's life for me.'<p>

She knows now exactly how this is all going to work out. She's going to get her mother back and with her to help they'll fix this problem that is the Admiral and that'll be that. A pirate's life for Emily. She's going to go right on living it just the way she has been. And so what if Alex doesn't like it? It's her plan. Her decision and she can live with it. She will. And Riley… he'll be fine. She'll release him when it's all over and he'll be just fine. And really, what does Alex know, anyway?

Something strikes her at this thought, a strange sense of déjà vu finally catching up to her. Shaking her head, she brings up the bottle clutched in her hand. It's more than half empty, but she doesn't care, not tonight. She's half expecting Alex to come looking for her like he used to because he knows she doesn't sleep well. She's hoping to be good and passed out if he does, so she brings the bottle to her lips…

"Something tells me you've had enough."

…and nearly chokes to death on the spicy liquid at the soft but scolding voice that should not be coming from anywhere in her cabin. She's so startled she almost doesn't recognize it, staggering to her feet and reaching for her sword, but wait, had she not just been thinking… She turns, a little more calm, and stands swaying a moment as she stares. "Oh." She swears softly. "Please..tell me I'm dreaming."

Because sure enough, it's her grandfather sitting before her, studying her intently and with perhaps a bit of curiosity. "Do your dreams often involve rum and dead men?"

She collapses back onto the window seat. "I knew you'd say that." She rakes a hand through her hair. "There sort of..is no 'usual' with my dreams." She adds in belated answer to his question.

"You know why I'm here, then?" He asks, reaching forward to gently remove the bottle from her loosened grip and set it aside.

"Yes. I know…"

"The compass. She can't let you keep it."

"No. No, I've just got it figured though! I'm going to fix it?"

The curiosity is more than just hinted at behind her grandfather's old eyes now. "Well. Whatever you do, you'd best get to doing it quick. Your mother's coming as we speak."

"Grandfather." She tries to collect her thoughts. "The key. Do you – do you know where she keeps the key?"

"You really do have a plan, then?" He seems surprised, but shakes his head. "Used to be there was a loose board in her cabin, beneath the bed, might've been. But that was before…"

Well, it'd be a place to start anyway, but oh, she hasn't even got the ingredients for the spell she'll use on Riley and… "Now? She's – she's really coming _now_?"

"Aye." He looks sad now. "My granddaughter. You know, I'd once hoped…" He trails off, and Emily abruptly feels a little ashamed of herself. Reaching for her again, he takes one of her hands in his own.

His touch is damp and cold and Emily snatches her hand back, a sick feeling twisting her insides. There, on her palm… oh, goddess. "Grandfather," but he's gone, vanished as easily as he'd appeared. She shoots to her feet –just in time for her cabin door to creak open.

"Emily?" That's Alex's voice, calling quietly. "You awake, love? I've come to call truce."

"Alex." She goes to dart across the room, nearly tripping over the chair her grandfather had been occupying. "Yes, come in, thank my goddess, I knew you'd turn up!"

He slips into the room, crossing it with tentative steps. "Something wrong?"

"You have no idea. I-I mean, I barely remembered that dream – but maybe I should've known – and now she's coming and I'm not – I mean, I don't know if I'm ready! But we need to leave!"

"Whoa, easy love, easy." He catches her in his arms as she goes to pass him right up on her way out of her cabin. "Slow down. I've not the faintest idea what you're going on about!"

"My grandfather! Alex, he was here!"

"Your – grandfather?" He only stares down at her blankly. "Ye don't _'ave _a grandfather, love."

She scowls up at him, trying to pull out of his arms. "My papa's father, Alex, he's been on the _Dutchman _with my mother and she sent him to – if we stay here we're putting everyone else in danger, don't you see?"

.

She's looking up at him now and oh, how he's beginning to hate that _smell_, the stench of drink on one who's had too much of it. Alright. How much has she had, then? He looks up and around and spots the bottle on her desk. Well more than half empty, and that's everything explained, easy. "Oh, aye, I think I see just fine."

"No, Alex, wait, I'm – I'm not kidding, we have to set sail _now_."

He's leading her over to her bed, gentle but firm. "Love, we're not goin anywhere in the middle of the night with a Captain who's three or four sheets to the wind."

"But my grandfather, he…" She's holding up her hand, trying to show him something? But he's already had enough.

"It was just a dream, love. Ye get them all the time. Come on, then." He sits her down on the bed and begins removing the belt around her hips.

"No. It wasn't a dream this time. It – it was real, it was…" She trails off, increasingly incoherent.

"Alright, love, whatever ye say." He keeps going, untying her corset. "Ye can tell me all about it come mornin," adding under his breath, "provided ye remember and aren't too busy bein sick as a dog."

"Alex." She watches him with owlish eyes as he sets her corset aside and removes her boot, then starts in on her brace. "It wasn't a dream. Was it?"

He's had practice enough with it that the brace is off in moments. He sets it aside with the rest of her things, and then comes up to kiss her forehead. "Hush up, love, a little sleep is all ye need now." He lays her back into bed, and she gets in, staring up at him with unfocused eyes.

"But she's going to find me. I mean, I was - was so sure…" She trails off as her eyes, finally, flutter closed.

He watches her a moment longer, shaking his head. "Unbelievable."

* * *

><p>She wakes late the next morning, before him, which is strange.<p>

She doesn't remember at first. Her head is pounding but the feeling isn't foreign to her and she isn't surprised. She's laying on her bed, the little brown cat that's made its home on the _Queen _curled up with her and purring softly even as it lifts its head lazily to look at her. Emily runs a hand over the mangy fur between its ears. "Hello there."

She can feel the breeze coming in from the window and thinks, maybe, she remembers settling herself in the window seat the night before. She really just wants to curl up and go back to sleep now, but something stops her, she's not sure what yet. Ah well. It'll come to her…probably. Instead she drags herself into a sitting position, and wait a minute. Her leg brace is sitting neatly atop a pile with the rest of her things – her sword, corset. The brace is what's most worrying. Allowing someone to remove that is, for her, even more intimate a thing than someone tossing aside her corset.

Alex. He'd come to see her the night before. Had he? She searches the room with her eyes and sure enough, there he is, sleeping soundly draped across the window seat. She shakes her head at him. If she'd been passed out, why hadn't he gone off to sleep in his own bed? He'd have been far more comfortable.

She puts on her brace and stumbles a bit in the process of getting to her feet, but steadies herself quick enough. Then she treks across the room, noting the bottle left on her desk, near empty. She resists the urge to down what's left as she winces at the sunlight streaming into the room. Tempting as the idea is, perhaps she's had enough for the moment. Instead, she sits herself down on the seat beside Alex and leans down to whisper in his ear. "Good morning."

He groans softly, and his chocolate brown eyes flutter open to focus on her, bleary with sleep. "Oh. G'mornin, love."

She offers him a small smile. "You know, I'm sure I would've been just fine. You didn't have to stay here."

He snorts softly. "Ye don't remember, then?"

She shrugs. "I remember you showing up here. I think."

He shakes his head. "How drunk must ye 'ave been? Ye were out of yer mind, ye were."

Her brows furrow. "What?"

"Ravin about some dream ye 'ad. And I do mean _ravin´_. Can't remember the last time I saw ye so up in arms." He's not angry, he's worried.

"Really? Well, I certainly don't remember any of that. I just remember seeing you, and then waking up just now." She reaches out to brush away a strand of his hair that's been blowing in the morning breeze. "I'm sorry if I..worried..you." She trails off, eyes widening as she sees something, on the palm of her hand. Images finally begin flooding her mind.

Curling up in the window seat with a full bottle…thinking of Riley and Alex and the spell…singing that silly song her mother taught her…oh, goddess, her grandfather…it wasn't a dream. It _wasn't _a dream!

"Peg?" Alex catches her hand in his own as she shoots to her feet. "What's wrong?"

She snatches her hand back before he can see the ugly curse marring her palm. "Would you trust me?"

He looks wary as he comes to sit on the edge of the seat. "Why?"

"Because it's too much to explain and you might not believe it and I just need you to do me a favor." She turns to her desk and reaches for a certain drawer with shaking hands and goddess, she wishes her head would stop pounding. At least she's done this enough times that thinking past it is easier – not that that's something to be proud of, exactly. She snatches a coin purse out of the drawer and scowls at herself upon realizing it's considerably lighter than she likes to keep it. _And weren't we so proud not too long ago that we were above spending all our coin on drink? _Her stomachs starting to churn. She takes a breath and turns to Alex and tosses the purse to him. "I need you to check the hold," she retrieves a ring of keys and tosses them to him as well, "we should have plenty supplies but if we don't round up what you can," she's crossed the room again now, is strapping on her sword and tucking away her pistols, "and then get the crew down here to the docks to load it all and quickly Alex, I'm talking hours and only a few of them. Actually, make that just one. I want to be ready to sail by the time I get back." This is pushing it, but she's the captain, she reserves the right to make ridiculous demands every once in a while.

"Alright, do me best, I will," he crosses the room to hover over her, "but are you plannin to tell me just what exactly it is that's got ye in such a panic?"

"There's no time to lose, not now. I'll explain later, when we're on our way. Alright?" She rests her hands on his neck and meets his eyes. "I'm sorry." Because he's not the only one who has some things to be sorry about, she'll admit it. She leans up and in a bit, offering a kiss.

He glances down at her lips, but doesn't take the offer. "I'll 'ave us ready to sail in an hour or two, Cap'n." He replies crisply, instead offering her a small smile, and it's genuine, although she thinks it hints more at a smirk. He's gone before she can say another word.

…

She meets Jo on her way up to talk to Ana; the older woman is talking to Captain Kristoff as Emily comes up. "Hello, good morning, sorry about this," she greets him, harried and rushed, "but I'm gonna have to steal our Jo here," she turns to the older woman, "we're leaving."

"I figured we would do soon, I suppose you'll want me to start rounding the boys up then?"

"No, no, see when I said leaving I meant sometime in the next hour, I've already got Alex working on all that, you need to come with me to see Ana 'cause goddess knows I still only half understand what she's talking about when it comes to magic."

"An hour? Don't you think that might be…"

"Jo." She snaps, abruptly becoming Captain Turner and not just Emily.

Eyes widening a bit, Jo nods. "Right then, I'll just…" She slips past Emily and over to Captain Kristoff.

Emily looks away, offering them some privacy as he leans down to plant a kiss on Jo's lips. "Go on." He murmurs to her. "You remember where to send your letters?"

"Aye. Is it too much to hope I'll see you soon?"

"Perhaps not too much if we're both hoping enough."

Emily glances back at them with a bit of a scowl. Does anyone actually talk like that? Certainly no one in her world does. She's actually a touch jealous. The pair share a last kiss. Emily clears her throat. Jo pulls away finally and comes up next to Emily.

"Impatient." Jo grumbles.

"I have good reason."

"Planning to tell me what this reason is?"

"Well, I'm a bit fuzzy on the details myself, but I might've just been visited by my very undead grandfather…"

"Good goddess, I think I'll quit asking questions from now on."

…

Ana's waiting for them when they make it to her tavern. She doesn't ask questions, and Emily doesn't even get a word out before Ana is shoving two small leather satchels into her hands. "The one with the rose petals is the one for the devotion spell." She turns to Jo. "It involves a potion and it'll take some time to boil, but the potion itself won't lose potency for some time and you'll only need it to keep for a week at most, so I'd go ahead and get to brewing it while the petals are still fresh. As for the other one, you'll just have to be careful when reciting the chant, those old languages are tricky."

Jo nods, taking back her spell book. "I think I've got it."

"Good." Ana turns to Emily and closes her eyes, holding out something enveloped in her hands. She murmurs something, a short chant not unlike the one she'd just been talking about Emily and Jo having to recite, and then opens her hands to reveal a small crystal charm of sorts, attached to a string. "For luck and protection." She says, tying it around Emily's neck. Then she plants a kiss on her forehead. "Now go, and be careful, both of you!"

* * *

><p><em><strong>Whew. I don't think I'm anywhere near the end of the story as a whole just yet, but this particular arch with Emily and Will and Elizabeth is about to be finished. Just a few chapters more and we'll have our Elizabeth back, I promise! <strong>_

_**I made an attempt at drawing Emily! It's a somewhat failed attempt, but I thought I'd put it out there anyway, because I did spend well over an hour sketching her out. I may work on it some and try to come up with a better version. Let me know what you think.**_

_**Link - pianogirl94. deviantart art /Peg-Leg-Turner-Concept-495326551, take out the spaces, you know the drill. :)**_


	63. She's a Pirate

"Apples, water, potatoes…lots of gunpowder, plenty of shot for the cannons," Jo lists off early the next day as they look through what they do have in the hold. A stray chicken wanders past, and she raises a brow as she watches it. "Well, food certainly won't be a problem."

Alex rolls his eyes. "Ye act as if ye expected I'd forget somethin."

"Well, you didn't, so thank you." Emily replies, soothing, leaning up to plant a kiss on his cheek. She's relaxed some since the previous morning, feeling better and less panicked now that they're under way. She's also just about decided to forgive him. Well. Sort of, halfway forgive him. Maybe it's more accurate to say she's just decided not to hate him anymore.

Jo slips back further into the hold, through another doorway – and stops short. "Ah, Peg. You might've spoken too soon."

Emily makes her way across the room. "Oh, please don't use _that _tone. What is it?"

"Rum." Jo replies, glancing at Emily with _that _scowl-grimace. "Or, erm, rather the _absence _of it."

"Absence -," she pushes the older woman aside and slips into the room, her eyes widening. Sure enough, the plentiful space left for barrels and crates of bottles is quite thoroughly empty, save for that same chicken wandering around and cluck-cluck-clucking as it pecks at Emily's peg leg. "Oh," is all she can manage to articulate. She shares a look with Jo, and then they both turn, hands planted on hips, to glower at Alex.

He avoids their eyes as he attempts to look innocent. "Right. That. Well, s'ppose no bodies perfect, eh?"

Emily decides he's officially _un_-forgiven again.

* * *

><p>"You know, I really can't even begin to understand why you're so upset." Emily's sitting with arms crossed and her feet – well, foot propped up on the desk before her, crossed over her peg leg. "Not even a week ago you were baiting Riley into a fight he'd never win, about to kill him if I hadn't shown up."<p>

They're in her cabin, of course. Alex is standing on the other side of her desk, arms crossed as he glowers at her, and she's trying to remember when last she saw him any kind of actually happy. "I know that!" He snaps. "I was jealous and actin a right fool and I realize that now but what happened to you, then? Ye looked ready to shoot me that afternoon if I didn't back off! And now ye're ready to send 'im off to face yer mum, who has _you _terrified, when 'e only 'alf knows what 'e's volunteerin for?"

"I wasn't actually going to shoot anyone that day." She rolls her eyes. "Actually, I was more prepared to use my magic, it would've been harmless."

"That's not the point and ye know it, Peg."

"What is your point, exactly, Sparrow?"

"My point is ye've spent the past few weeks flirtin all shameless like with 'im and now ye're ready to send 'im to what'll probably be 'is death? If that's what ye're going to start doin to yer friends…"

He's really beginning to try her newfound patience. "Riley will be fine!"

"Is that what ye've been tellin yerself? You can't know that 'e will be. Yer magic can't fix everythin!" He near shouts, then pauses a moment, taking a breath. "This is just what I was talkin about, ye know. When I said I wanted Emily back."

She huffs. "Oh, I wish you'd stop with that. Pirates, Alex. I might well be saving all our skins in the long run if I can make this happen, isn't that enough to make it worth it?"

"Pirates." He shakes his head. "That's always the excuse and I'm sick of it."

There's a pause as she studies him. "Then why are you here?" She challenges.

He looks surprised. "What?"

She steels herself. "If you're so worried over all of this, if you're starting to hate me so much, then why are you here? Why not just run off like you talked about two years ago?"

"Hate you?" His eyes widen, as though he can't believe she would even think such a thing, let alone allow the thought to swim its way out into the open. "I don't – I couldn't hate ye. Never." He pauses. "But then, that's just it, isn't it? You're impossible to 'ate. Ye killed Riley's shipmate. A friend. With Riley standing _right there_. And yet he's willin to do this for ye. Ye bat yer eyes and let a coupla tears drop and ye don't even 'ave to ask anymore. We'd do anythin for ye."

She doesn't know how to answer that. She avoids his eyes and wishes desperately that she'd never given him the keys to the hold. She wants a drink.

"And ye know it." He says softly, realizing.

"I didn't always." She replies in her own defense, and dares to meet his eyes. "It's – sort of a newfound talent. And I'd never use it like this unless I was certain he could make it out alive."

"Could?" Alex snorts, incredulous.

"Well! I don't see you coming up with any better ideas!"

"Ye could've just sent me over, no tricks."

"And have you dead almost certainly?" She scowls.

"… Ye should've just run away with me while we still 'ad the chance. Two years got us 'ere, I wish ye'd never become Captain of this stupid ship."

"If it had been up to _you," _she sits up now, leaning forward over the desk as she glares, "we'd be settled somewhere over in the colonies and I'd be doing nothing more interesting than cooking you dinner and bearing you children!"

"Well, come now, it wouldn't've been that bad, with the money we 'ad saved we could 'ave bought us a farm and ye could've kept runnin 'round in trousers for all I cared."

"Oh, yes, I'm sure that would go over very well with the people of whatever village you'd settle us in."

"Well, alright, so ye'd 'ave to wear a dress just sometimes. But I'd buy us some 'orses. Always wanted to learn 'ow to ride a 'orse."

"Horses." Emily pauses, softening just a touch. "And I suppose we'd go riding together."

"And ye wouldn't just be cookin. S'hard work, farmin, I'd need yer 'elp."

"What does one do on a farm? Collect hen's eggs."

"Milk the cows."

"And then there'd be the horses to care for."

"And it might not be so bad," he goes on, soft and a little more tentative, "'aving a little one or two runnin around."

She slumps back in the chair, arms crossing again. She has, in fact, thought of this before. The idea of having children. The thoughts it leads to are never pleasant. For one thing, she's sure she'd make for a truly awful mother with the examples she'd had. For another, she and Alex had been, well, going at 'it' like rabbits for a while there, and nothings come of it so far. Although she is thankful for this on many levels, the darker thought has struck her that perhaps, somehow, she wouldn't be capable of bearing him…

"I'm sorry." He says when the silence grows heavy. "We've been lucky, I s'ppose, in that respect. Not sure what either of us would actually do with a baby."

"No, don't be sorry." She replies honestly. "I mean, you're right. I do wish, just sometimes…" She stands and crosses the room to him and wraps her arms around him, laying her head against his chest. He wraps her slender frame in his own arms obligingly. "I love this ship."

"I know ye do."

"But I'd run away with you now, I think. If I thought there was anywhere I could hide." Only she isn't sure there is when it comes to the Admiral. He seems to know what she's been up to no matter where she goes.

Alex pulls away to look at her, eyes widening in surprise. "You would?"

She nods, honest. "I would."

He cups her cheek, searching her eyes. "Hello, Emily. I knew ye were still in there somewhere."

She gives him a soft smile and leans up for a kiss…

"Emmy!" There's a knock at the door just before their lips meet. It's Joshy.

Emily pulls away with a huff, resting her head on Alex's chest as Alex just chuckles. "Yes, what is it?" She calls with some annoyance.

"Miss Gibbs sent me for you. She's down in the galley and there was something about a potion…"

The devotion spell. Emily has to help in finishing it. "Tell her I'm coming!" She looks up at Alex. "Sometimes I think he does it on purpose somehow."

He shakes his head. "It wouldn't surprise me." Any amusement fades; a worried frown pulls at his lips. "Last chance, then, and I'll leave it alone. Ye don't 'ave to do it like this."

He doesn't understand. She shrugs, allowing the mask to slip back on. Easier that way. "Riley's agreed. He'll scarce know what he's doing, and if anything happens…I'll take care of it."

There's that sad look again. He doesn't even try to hide it away now. "Alright. I just…"

"Hope I know what I'm doing?"

"As usual."

"Riley trusts me." She smirks. "You should try it sometime, _dearie_."

His eyes narrow. "One might think ye're proud of yourself."

She rolls her eyes and leans up to steal a brief kiss. "Remember why I'm Captain." She winks before she leaves him.

* * *

><p>"Alright. Maybe I should've thought this one through a bit."<p>

Jo raises an eye brow at him from where she's sat in the galley, peeling potatoes. "Mmm, you think?" Her response is dripping with sarcasm. He pouts. She rolls her eyes. "Oh, don't bother with all that, you'll get no sympathy from me."

They are, of course, talking about the fact that he'd emptied the hold of every last bottle or barrel that had contained rum. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, somehow. In truth, however, he's just succeeded in making a bit of an enemy out of just about everyone else on the _Queen_.

"I was just trying…" He trails off, huffing when he realizes he's no longer quite sure he understands what his own thought process was.

Jo pauses as she sets the potato in her hands onto the peeled pile next to her. "You don't even know what you were trying to do, do you?" She softens, just a fraction. "You need to relax." She goes on, matter of fact. "Has it occurred to you that perhaps, by now, Peg is simply being Peg?"

"When did taverns and rum and schemes like the one with this spell become 'Peg just bein Peg'?"

A pause as Jo gives him that scowl-grimace of hers. "Perhaps around the same time seducing whatever pretty little thing displays an interest became you just being you. And, to be fair, unless I'm missing something, the first time she ever got drunk, she did so with you."

"So all the rest is my fault, then?" He scowls.

"No, of course not all of it is your fault, but…" She huffs. "Oh, what is the matter with you two, anyway? You're worrying too much, Alex. That's usually her job."

"Usually. Now she seems to've stopped carin all together."

"And you're blaming that on the rum?" Jo asks, apparently trying to make sense of him.

"Yes." He pauses, thinking. "Well, no. I don't know. What else could it be blamed on?"

Jo rubs her temples. "Maybe there's nothing to blame on anything! I mean – knowing her, she still cares plenty Alex. Maybe you should try…"

"Just trustin 'er? That's what she told me, complete with that _smirk_. She's playin the pirate a little too well now."

"Now, that right there, that is your problem." Jo points at him with the small peeling knife still in her hand. "You're wishing this was still just a game and it isn't."

"I know that!"

"Do you?" She pauses, studying him a moment, hand coming up to rest on her hip. "Maybe your real problem is…" She hesitates.

"Is what?" He asks, hoping her response might hold an actual answer for him.

There's the scowl-grimace again. "_We're _pirates, Alex." She says we in a way that suggests… "Maybe your problem is that you simply, well, aren't."

Oh. Now there's something he really hadn't considered. For a moment they just stare at each other. The suggestion itself sounds simple enough, but it really holds a considerable weight. Alex's grandfather is the keeper of the Pirate Code, and he'd gone through some trouble to prove himself worthy of being recognized as such, and he's sailing with the Pirate King's daughter, and these things can't just be ignored. He wants to pretend he can be this far into it all and still just walk away, but the truth is, there's nothing so simple about any of this. Walking away now would mean being labeled a traitor in a way that even pirates won't condone. And even if Emily would think about following him, he knows in the end she'd never do it.

"Do us a favor." He says after a moment. "Don't repeat that…not even to Peg."

Jo nods in understanding. "Our secret." Her tone turns a bit warning as she snatches up another potato and gets back to work. "Though, you keep going like you are and it won't be a secret much longer, I expect."

He hates her for how right she is.

* * *

><p>Sometimes she hates the stupid thing. She's tempted, half the time, to haul back and throw the thing as far off into the water as she can and be done with it, but this will get her exactly-nowhere instead of only-maybe-somewhere, so she stops herself every time. She blames it on Alex, although in truth she'd had this problem long before he'd taken the rum away. The point is, the compass spends half its time spinning aimlessly in her hands, so she can only half be sure they're moving in the right direction. Thankfully, they have a pretty steady wind filling the sails, so if they are going the right way, they're making good time.<p>

Emily asks her goddess for a little help, any indication that she's on the right track, but she gets nothing. In fact, she thinks the goddess is being almost _too _quiet, although Emily can feel Calypso is watching her closely again. She begins to wonder if maybe she's upset the goddess and is being scolded in a way… but she's not sure how to fix it if this is the case as she's not actually sure of what she's done. She supposes she could try asking...

But somehow, with all that's going on – she isn't sure she wants to know the answer.

…

Oh, no. Please. She doesn't want to be here again. Not after what happened last time. It's calm enough right now, sure. The sun shines bright, the white sand sparkling prettily in its golden light. The breeze ruffling the leaves of the trees at her back is cool and calming. But the waters are just a little too restless for such a beautiful day.

"Watch yeh mouth dis time, young one, and yeh'll have nothin to fear."

Spinning around to face the voice coming from behind her, she drops hastily into a curtsy. "My goddess."

Calypso places her hands on her hips and affects a look that makes her appear very much a worried, scolding mother. "Yeh know why yeh here."

Emily pauses, going down the long list of things she could've done and wondering which one could have her goddess both worried and upset. "Forgive me, my goddess." She says, respectful as she can be. "But I'm not sure I do."

"Yeh should know very well. Dis boy of yehrs. What are yeh tinkin?"

"Boy of – Alex?" She hedges, though this won't get her anywhere. Alex is no longer the only one her goddess could be talking about, but Emily's not ready to give in so easily. "I don't understand."

Her goddess scoffs, apparently in no mood for Emily's sass. The wind picks up a little. "Riley Connelly! Puttin him under dis spell yeh've cooked up!"

"Riley?" Emily can't help the way she begins to stutter as clouds begin to form in the once clear sky. "But – but my goddess, the vision you sent me, of the night my grandfather came to me, I thought…"

"That vision was meant as a warnin that yeh were runnin out of time! I was hopin, once I saw ye were growin to fancy de boy, dat yeh would come to look for a different way to get de key."

"I've tried!" Emily bursts, abruptly exasperated.

"Yeh've tried everythin but comin to me to begin with!" The goddess returns, and the clouds above begin to obscure the sun. Emily looks up and around, nervous. Calypso pauses, and after a moment the clouds disperse, the wind dying down again. "Did it not occur to yeh dat de vision I gave yeh of fightin yeh mother on de _Dutchman _was the de way it was meant to happen?"

No... No, it hadn't. But now it has. Oh. That makes sense now. In fact, this revelation has both the visions making sense now. The vision of the fight on the _Dutchman _is, presumably, to show Emily just what she should prepare for. The one of the fight on the beach, where Alex ends up with a sword in his chest, well, that one is obviously to show her the beach isn't the way to go when given the option.

"But…" She tries to regain some calm. "But I've found another way, and Riley won't even remember. Right?"

Her goddess scowls. "And if he is de one to die? What den, hmm?"

"Are you saying – will he?" Alright, that was the wrong thing to say and she knows it immediately.

"I cannot tell ye dat and would not if I could!" The wind picks up again. "Dis is your choice, young one, I cannot make it for yeh, but I would hope yeh have sense enough to listen to Alex! He understands tings far better dan yeh seem ready to credit him for!"

Emily almost can't believe what she's hearing. "That's easy for you to say, seeing it all as you seem to. Isn't it?" Her goddess' expression turns downright thunderous, and Emily goes on quickly before that can translate to the skies above them. "Forgive me, my goddess, that was – I mean no disrespect. But if this is my decision, then why bring me here, why bother interfering? I don't understand."

The goddess eyes her, softening a touch, again looking more the worried mother. "Yeh were comin to fancy de boy." Emily can't deny this, not without lying outright, so she says nothing. The goddess nods once in easy understanding. "De boy loves yeh, and foolishly trusts yeh far more dan he should. Usin him like yeh are about to…" She shakes her head. "Such decisions can change yeh, in here." She reaches out to tap Emily's chest over her heart. "Tink bout what yeh are doin, young one."

Emily goes to retort, to say she _has _thought about it, that it's not as though she made this decision on a whim…but her goddess has had enough, it seems. The beach around Emily falls away, a piece at a time, and then she's back in her cabin and left, as usual, with nothing to do but ponder her own quite jumbled thoughts.

* * *

><p>"So... Wait." Riley snakes a hand up to rub the back of his neck, nervous. "The things you can do – making stuff float about, creating fire and making it dance as you showed me – I'll be able to do that too?"<p>

"For a time, yes. You'll be borrowing it all from me, and trust when I say I've plenty to share. And there's more to it than just what I've shown you. You'll be able to will yourself onto the _Dutchman_, they won't even have to know you're there."

"'Will' myself?"

"It's like – oh, I'm not sure how to describe it. You close your eyes and think where you want to end up and with a bit of luck you open them again and you're where you wanted to be." He just stares at her, bewildered. She resists the urge to roll her eyes. "Forget it. It's not important." She takes out a small, corked phial. It's full of a clear liquid that's tinged red. "_This _is what's important. I drink this, you give us a little kiss," she sends him a wink, "and the rest – well, you don't worry about the rest. I worry about the rest. You shouldn't even remember the rest."

"Shouldn't?" His voice cracks. She tries not to find it adorable. "Miss Emily – are you sure about this? I mean, about how this strange spell works?"

She isn't, if she's honest. She's never cast a spell on anyone before and can't know that she's got her first try right, her own control with her magic is iffy at best so his will be too, and her attempts at the disappear/reappear act she'd tried to describe to him have met with near disastrous failure on more than one occasion. But he has to be willing in the part he's playing, so confidence on her part is key. Her goddess' words from just the night before echo in her mind.

'_De boy loves yeh…Usin him like yeh are about too…_

'_Think about what yeh are doin.'_

What are her other options? Get it wrong without Riley involved and Alex gets killed. Get it right without Riley involved and Emily ends up with a sword through her own chest, and even if she'll live, that sounds unpleasant enough that she'll skip the experience, thanks very much. Her current plan isn't so bad in comparison. Riley could – no, _will _– make it aboard the _Dutchman _without anyone even knowing, and then he'll find the key – assuming her mother doesn't keep it on her person, but Emily's grandfather seemed to think she doesn't – and then get out the same way he came and hand it off to Emily and from there it'll all be a piece of cake.

She has a plan, and Riley will be fine, and she sends him an easy smile, looping an arm through his as she tucks the phial with the potion back into a hidden compartment in her corset. "Of course I'm sure, love. I wouldn't send you if I wasn't." She places a kiss on his cheek and begins leading him back out of her cabin and up on deck and he seems to buy it because he relaxes a fraction.

A voice whispers, somewhere in the back of her mind, that a silver tongue was supposed to be Alex's gift, and lately they've all but switched places entirely. She tries, for once, no to over think this one.

* * *

><p>"I suppose it's really too late now." Riley says, a nervous chuckle behind the words. Night has fallen. If the moon is out, its light is obscured by the clouds that are now dominating the skies. There's been no sign of the <em>Dutchman <em>yet, not that this means anything anyway, but Emily's goddess has already sent her whispers of confirmation – whatever is going to be done, her mother is already close enough for them to get to it.

"Too late for what?" Emily asks, eyeing his shaking hands as they clasp the small phial with its red-tinged potion.

"To be worried of whether you're about to poison me."

Ah. That's right. He'd been worried she'd put something in the wine the first time they had dinner together, in her cabin. She allows a smile to tug at her lips. "Yes, I should think we've established that if killing you was my intention, I'd have got to it already." Killing him on purpose anyway.

"Suppose I should feel special, then." He pauses, glancing down at the phial. "If I ask you something… Miss Emily, will you tell me the truth?"

That's a rather worrying question. She covers his trembling hands with her own, stilling them, doing her best to continue appearing calm and confident. "Of course, love." And she's glad she'd shooed everyone else off to be busy with whatever else they can find to be busy with. The last thing she'd want just now is an audience.

"Why am I here now? I could've warned you about Captain Andrews and what he was planning with Peter. You might not have lost a man. Surely you've realized that by now. So – so I just want to know why I'm not…"

"Because you're not Andrews. And you're not Peter."

He meets her eyes with his worried, honest green ones. "But – please. If I'm different, tell me why." He pauses, gathering some courage perhaps? "It's just I think I _know _why, but I want to hear you say it, Miss Emily."

She nods slowly. "Because… You're all the things that make up a good man. And because those are hard to come by and," the truth. For what he's about to do, it's the least she can give him, "and I'm afraid I may have fallen a bit in love, Riley Connelly."

His eyes light up in a way that sends a pang through her heart. "I think… I think I have too." He gives her a small smile. "Thank you for that, Miss Emily." He holds up the phial, his hands much steadier now, and drinks down its contents.

She leans in, preparing for the kiss. He cups her cheek, so gentle and sweet. "Oh, Riley." She murmurs. "I'm sorry." Their lips meet, and for a moment she doesn't know what's going on. There's a blinding flash of rose-red light, and Riley stumbles back, clutching his head and groaning in pain. He runs into some barrels behind him, nearly trips, causing Emily to shoot forward in the hopes of catching him. She's just beginning to worry something's gone horribly wrong when he straightens, his hands dropping slowly back to his sides as he looks at her again. She's startled into silence a moment. His eyes. The usually dark, almost bluish green orbs are now unnatural light and seem to almost glow in the dim light of the lamps around. "Riley?"

He straightens, posture becoming military-straight, hands clasped behind his back in the way Andrews had probably, at one time, tried hard to drill into him. "Yes, Miss Emily."

The emotionless response sends a shiver down her spine at how unnatural it is, but she tries to steel herself. She doesn't want to toy with him like this, but she has to know that this will work. "Send me that lamp there." She commands, pointing to the nearest lantern.

"Yes, Miss Emily." He replies again, in the same flat tone, and holds out a hand the same way she would, gesturing with two fingers. The lantern floats up and off its hook and sweeps easily through the air to her. She takes it, nodding. "Good. Alright. Now. Try to will yourself, like I told you."

"Yes, Miss Emily." He closes his eyes, lets out a breath, again just as she would do. She blinks, and he's gone. A brief moment passes and a board creaks behind her – she whirls around to find him standing with hands behind his back again, waiting patiently for her next order.

She shakes her head, unnerved by the blank stare he's giving. "See what you get for running around with salty little sea girls like me?" He doesn't respond, not that she'd expected he would. "I do hope you won't remember this. Right then. If you can tap into my head, you should know what your destination looks like. Be quiet, be quick. _Don't _let the Captain catch you. If anyone else does, you demand to speak to Bootstrap, tell him Emily Elizabeth sent you. He'll help…if he can. Ah, matter of fact, mention my name first thing. Might save your life long enough… long enough. Why do I never seem to have enough time lately? It's always_ just_ long enough." She shakes her head, takes a breath, hesitates. This is really it. All she has to do is say the word now and he'll be gone. She can live with this. Riley will be fine and she can live with this and he'd done this willingly because he trusted her and she absolutely knows what she's doing. _That's why I'm captain. _Maybe, if she just keeps repeating that to herself as much as everyone else, she'll start to believe it too. "Well. Off you go, then." _Pirate_. She hears Alex in her head, only instead of sounding playful he sounds disappointed.

"Yes, Miss Emily." Riley replies a final time. Once again, she blinks, and he's gone, and it's done, and she knows instantly that her goddess had been right, because she already doesn't quite feel the same.

_Pirate_. _Selfish, manipulative pirate_. _Sent 'im to 'is death. Feel proud of yerself? _The Alex in her head echoes the real Alex's words from a few days earlier.

"Cap'n!" The call comes from up in the crow's nest. "Land ho!"

Is she proud of herself? Not yet. She'll reserve that feeling as her reward for Riley making it out safe and sound. Now? Emily turns to the shadowy, irregular silhouette in the distance as the clouds above break enough for a few rays of moonlight to shine through. Taking out the compass, she opens it up and finds that it is, in fact, pointing north – straight ahead. Now, it appears, she has work to do.


	64. The Dead Woman's Chest

"Ye actually did it." Alex observes as they're preparing to lower a long boat, sounding incredulous.

What had he been expecting? "Yes, Alex. I actually did it." Silence. He's just staring at her. She throws a few shovels into the boat, watches as a few crewmen begin lowering it, finally turns to Alex with a hand on her hip. "Something to say?"

He doesn't look away. "Nothin' that ain' already been said." A pause. "You alright?"

She's not sure if she'd use the word alright, or any word like it if she's entirely honest, but she forces herself to relax as her father comes up and Jo comes to see the three of them off. "Fine." Emily responds. "'Course I am. Just like he will be."

Alex doesn't question her this time, although he and Emily's papa do exchange a brief look. Funny that they should stop being half at each other's throats now, when Emily's decided she's about done with Alex.

The boat comes to rest in the water. Alex steps out of the way and gestures for her to go ahead. "Captain."

The silence that accompanies them on the short trip to shore is awkward and somehow heavy. Emily's struggling with the feeling that she once again has something she should be apologizing for, but as usual she's not sure what, and it doesn't matter because she doesn't feel sorry for anything and so has no intention of saying it. The island is as tiny and seemingly inconsequential as Emily remembers from her dream. The suns just beginning to rise as they begin traipsing through the sand, half going in circles as Emily tries to force the compass to keep her on track. Alex starts to look annoyed after not too long, though her father just looks vaguely amused.

There's a small crop of trees making up the center of the island, nothing too unusual, except it appears that something strange had happened here some time ago. It looks like someone had started a fire, perhaps on purpose. There's what's left of the trees, and the charred remains of crates and barrels half buried in the sand. And bits of broken bottles. A lot of broken bottles.

That reminds her of a story her Uncle had told her once, about being marooned with a pretty though rather distressing damsel who promptly burned all the rum… Actually, her mother had told her about that one too. And then she thinks of the stunt Alex had pulled when they left Shipwreck and she laughs out loud.

Alex and her papa exchange a look again, and everyone seems to be doing that here lately around her, as if they're worried for her sanity.

"I'm sorry, it's just… the rums gone!" Now they're just staring at her. "Oh! Ask Uncle the next time we see him." She waves them off and looks down at the compass again. "I think – Alex, give me your shovel."

He comes over, but instead of handing the shovel off to her he just shoos her out of the way and begins digging himself. Her father follows suit.

.

_Miss Emily explored this ship as a child. The holds full of dark corners. It's almost too easy. He fades into existence, awareness returning to him one sense at a time. Big eyes, glowing an unnatural light green, sweep the area he's now in and find no one. _

_This should feel stranger than it does. It takes him a moment to realize; he's underwater, holding his breath. He feels the need for air, but not so urgently as he ought to. Apparently, Miss Emily's magic isn't the only thing he's been allowed to borrow._

_He swims across the large hold he's in until he comes to a short flight of stairs leading up to what looks to be a corridor, and an empty one if he's not mistaken. He hopes he isn't._

_He hopes. It's faint. But it's there, a feeling. Something's not quite right. He isn't supposed to feel._

_Riley pushes up the steps and peers around the corner. There's no one around down here. He pushes onward._

_._

The sky is growing bright enough that they scarce need the lantern her father had been holding. There's a deep hole in the sand before them now. Much farther and one of them might have to jump down into it. Just before this actually becomes necessary there's a distinct _thud, _and her papa freezes, glancing at her before peering down into the hole with Alex.

Emily doesn't hesitate. She crouches down and brushes at the sand with her hand, eyes going wide when she sees it – a chest with her mother's name on the top. _Captain Elizabeth Turner._ Alex and her papa crouch down with her and reach in to pull it out, plopping it down onto the sand next to the hole. Emily shoots to her feet, darts around to sit before the chest, pulls out a lock pick from the hidden compartment in her corset. The large pad lock falls away all too easily.

She opens the chest.

.

_Any use of Miss Emily's power on his end could leave her feeling weak. Riley knows it because she does. So he tries to get along without magic. It's not too hard at first. The large crew is, for the most part, above decks. Preparing for a fight, probably. A fight Miss Emily and the _Sea's Queen_ could, quite possibly, lose. He knows it because she does. In fact, she's not at all sure it's even remotely possible they can win in a fight with this massive, barnacle encrusted old ship he's trying to sneak through. That's comforting, he thinks._

_Sarcasm. A jolt of fear. Not too intense. But that's not right, not right at all, the spell was meant to wash all that away._

_He pushes on because he has no choice. Climb up a ladder, peer into the room above, duck back down quick when something walks – well, half floats – by. Something, not someone. He'd only caught a glimpse, but dear God… Another jolt of fear. Not right, not right._

_._

Emily freezes, brows furrowing, staring down at the trunk before her. Hesitating. Why is she hesitating? An all too familiar feeling is beginning to twist her gut. But what is she afraid of? Aside from all the obvious things, but this is more urgent.

"Emily?" Her papa asks.

She starts a bit, glancing at him. "Right. Sorry." She reaches forward and opens the trunk. Letters. There are too many of them to count at first glance. Emily digs through them, a bit curious. There are other things swimming around in the trunk as well – a shiny, gold plaited pistol. A few pieces of jewelry. Gifts from her father that her mother had apparently decided she didn't even want to see again.

And then there's the main attraction… she reaches in and pulls it out, setting it in the sand between her and the larger trunk. Her papa pulls back a little at the sight of it; she and Alex lean in a bit with a morbid curiosity. Sure enough, after a short moment, the _thump, thump_ reaches their ears, muffled but plain as day.

A strange burst of frustration has Emily clenching her fists in her lap. The answer to half her problems is sitting right in front of her, but she still can't get to it. _Riley, if you could hurry…_

.

_Riley's given up now, is using a cloaking spell. She'd not learned this one as well; he can make himself invisible, but can't muffle his own footsteps. He's still trying to be stealthy, and it gets harder with each time he's passed by one of those creatures that had once been human. At least, they had been according to Miss Emily. He can scarce believe it. He's so shaky, he's lucky he hasn't managed to run into something or to knock something over. It doesn't help that the more awareness returns to him, the more disturbed he is by the fact he's been underwater for so long._

_The jolts of fear are getting stronger, stronger…turning to full panic. He pauses in a corridor that's empty for now, takes a moment to just breath. Miss Emily wouldn't have sent him here if she hadn't thought he could make it back out. Right? He gets no real reassurance from her end of their connection. His stomach twists itself in a sickening knot. He's beginning to get the feeling that he's been tricked somehow. _

_She really does need the key, though, is desperate for all this to come together. He tries to gather some courage._

.

The fear turns to panic – well, no, not panic. She's not panicked. She's frustrated. The panic is almost more an echo, like she's feeling it second hand. Wait, what?

"Peg!" Alex. He's all but shouting. How many times has he said her name? She turns to him and blinks, blank. "The lock." He says, slowly. "Try picking the lock."

She shakes her head, tries to clear it. "Picking the lock?" She stares down at the Chest. "Can't be that simple." She turns to her papa. "Can it?" He only shrugs. She takes her simple picks back out and leans down to inspect the challenge before her.

There it is again. An echo of panic, sheer terror. She closes her eyes on some odd instinct, and for a strange though very brief moment, she's not on the island anymore. She's on a ship. An all too familiar ship, with an assortment of menacing and thoroughly inhuman creatures darting past and all at once she knows what's happening. Riley. But he's supposed to – or, rather, he's not supposed to… "Blast!" Had she said that out loud? She straightens up and glances at both Alex and her papa, who are now openly staring at her as though she's quite mad.

.

_He can't stay hidden behind a barrel forever. He supposes he could just will himself back to Miss Emily, but then what? He knows now. The strange mark on her hand. Bowing out now could mean basically damning the _Queen _to the depths, an entire ship full of men. Thieves and scallywags, true, but does that mean they deserve death? Riley doesn't think that's for any one man to decide, and he's just a boy._

_He pushes on. Slip down the corridor, focus, focus, don't let the cloak go. Let the cloak go and he's definitely dead. Not much farther and he'll be above decks._

.

Emily curses again as the simple metal pick she's been using snaps right in half. Sitting straight again, she tosses what's left of it aside as the other broken end falls out of the lock. "I knew it couldn't be that simple. It's no use. We have to have that key." The morning sun above them is being slowly blocked by thick grey storm clouds. Emily glances skyward, nervous now, as a distant rumble of thunder rolls across the sky.

"What now, then?" Alex asks.

"Back to the ship?" Her father suggests. "Preferably before the storm makes it here."

Emily nods. "With any luck, Riley will be there to greet us."

She can still feel the fear he's fighting. A thought strikes her, and she tries to gather her own courage. _He'll be fine. He will be fine. Breathe, Riley, and just keep going. You'll be fine._

.

They've surfaced. The water filling the ship had drained away all at once, and Riley had nearly been found out as he fell to the deck rather ungracefully.

_Breathe, Riley_. That's Miss Emily's voice. He's fully awake again, having pushed back any trace of the spell that had clouded his thoughts. He wishes he hadn't. He can't think. His heart feels as though it's trying to pound its way out of his chest. Miss Emily had told him this would be dangerous, but she hadn't explained what he'd actually be facing. These monstrous creatures… _Just keep going._ Miss Emily again. He feels – confidence. Is that an emotion? He feels it, from her he thinks. _Breathe, Riley, stop shaking. Be my brave sailor. You'll be fine. _Does she really believe that? He can't tell. She's certainly trying to make him think she does. He climbs a final set of stairs and makes it above decks.

This is where the real fun begins. The deck is swarming with the fish-men sailors he's been trying to avoid. None of them are even looking in his direction, but keeping the cloak up is getting harder and harder as his concentration is constantly thrown off. He stumbles forward, runs into a barrel but manages not to fall, turns around only to come face to face with a very large and brutish sailor with a face like a puffer fish. _My brave midshipman._ Miss Emily's voice continues to echo in his mind, and it helps. He keeps his wits about him, stepping out of the sailor's way just in time.

Keep going, keep going, keep going. There's another set of stairs, the deck around him almost tiered. He's just got one foot set on the steps when the activity around him dies down some, as well as the noise that accompanies it. Above it all, Riley hears something – something that for some reason makes his blood run cold all on its own. Eyes wide, he looks up, up, his eyes sweeping slowly up the figure now stood at the top of the stairs. Her outfit looks like it may be Asian in origin, a sort of dress with elegant embroidery, but its beauty is as tainted as that of the creature wearing it now; it's crusted with barnacles and an assortment of small, strange sea creatures. One webbed hand, its nails blackened and sharp like claws, rests on the rail next to her, and his eyes travel along that arm, take in the spiked sort of fin protruding from the tattered sleeve of the dress. Her dull green skin seems to glimmer slimily in the brightening daylight; it takes him a moment to realize they're scales. And then his eyes travel up the rest of the way, past disturbingly human eyes, and his heart skips a terrified beat. Serpents. Several of them, atop her head, growing from it like hair. They writhe and hiss, restless. The hissing. That's what stopped him just now.

He can't move. He knows he needs to but he _can't_. The way the men around him grow extra wary, he figures this must be the _Dutchman's _captain. Miss Emily's mother. _Riley._ Miss Emily prompts. _Riley, be brave for me. _

The gorgon before him is about to descend the steps and she'll run right into him, he has to move, but he can't, he just can't. _Riley!_ Miss Emily near shouts in his mind, and just as he knows it's all over…it isn't. A man stops the Captain. He's tall, wearing a long coat. He doesn't look quite as terrifying as the rest of this ships damned crew, although he does have, on his face…but there's something familiar about him, just vaguely. How strange.

Strange? Strange doesn't even begin to cover what all of this is.

He can't hear what's said, but the Captain turns quickly and walks off. Riley is shaking and still quite terrified, but he finally makes his muscles move, climbing up the steps. He narrowly avoids running in to another of the strange fish-people, nearly falls as he's tripped up over a coil of rope, darts off to the side by some more barrels and looks around, brows furrowed. The Captain. Where has she gone?

.

"Emily." It's Alex who breathes her name, sounding half terrified himself now. They're halfway back to the ship, rowing at a steady pace. Or, they were at least. Alex has stopped dead now, is staring at something just over Emily's shoulder. She turns to look where he is and freezes as well.

Oh. Oh, goddess. _Times up._

She takes the Chest, which has been resting in her lap, and sets it down into the boat. She knows what to do. She doesn't want to face her mother. But Emily has the heart. It won't be like her vision. She'd sent Riley for the key and got to the heart first. And just having it could serve its own purpose, as leverage, right?

"You keep going." She meets Alex's eyes, then glances back at her father. "Both of you, don't you dare come after me. You keep going. Understood?" Silence, they're exchanging a look again. "Oi!" She all but shouts, desperate. "If we have the heart, if it's on the _Queen, _they may not fire on you. Get back to the ship and lock the Chest up tight. And if you think you have a chance… keep to the Code. That's an order! Understood?" Her father nods slowly. Alex still hesitates. "Alex." She leans in, plants a kiss on his lips. "Please."

He nods, finally. "Aye, Cap'n."

"Promise me."

"I promise."

She sends one last look back at her father, a silent apology, and then she jumps.

.

He's caught. It's a combination of things that lead up to it. First he thinks he glimpses an all too familiar face; he hopes it isn't Peter, but doesn't get a chance to find out, because he's tripped up again. He curses himself for being so damnably clumsy, until he realizes what he'd run into isn't a what but a _who_. And then it's all downhill from there because for just a moment he forgets that he's cloaked, and in that sudden panic he lets his guard down so the thin wall of magic surrounding him falls away anyway.

He tells himself he really will be brave, but most rational thought flees his mind as he realizes who he's run into. It's a girl. Or, at least, he thinks it's a girl. She was a girl, anyway, perhaps, who knows how long ago. She seems to be among the worst off he's seen as far as this strange curse goes, suggesting she's been on the ship for some time. Anyway, it's her appearance that gets him. She looks vaguely like the Captain, minus the serpents and the fact her skin is scaled only in patches.

Her eyes meet his, and harden. "You!" Her voice is near a hiss.

It takes him a moment to make sense of the reaction. His eyes. Miss Emily had been thinking about how strange his eyes looked. "I-I…" He stutters, but can't get anything more out.

She grabs his arm with a shocking strength for all that she's such a tiny thing. "I smell your magic!" She's not the only one. There are several others beginning to circle around him and the girl now.

He swallows. "Wait! I…" Nothing more comes out. He doesn't know what to say at this point. He tries to focus, to will himself away just the same way he'd willed himself onto the ship, but he just can't manage it. Blast it all! "Emily sent me. Emily Turner!" Sent him just to find the key, and he can't tell them this, but…

The creatures freeze. The girls grip on his arm loosens a fraction as her eyes soften in surprise. The name 'Turner' sweeps across the deck in hushed murmurs, and Riley's beginning to understand that he really never had any idea what he was dealing with here.

The girl turns to the nearest crewmen. "Bootstrap." She says simply, and the crewmen walks off without hesitation, obeying some implied order.

* * *

><p>The clouds above are thickening, beginning to obscure the sun which has only just risen. Lizzie fades into existence a few feet out into the water still and hesitates a moment; ten years at sea leaves it hard to believe she's allowed to feel the sand beneath her boots again now. She closes her eyes as she pushes onward, hitting solid ground. She wades slowly through the water until, finally, she's standing on the sandy shore, just out of the waters reach. She stands a brief moment, taking in the strange sensation. Takes an unneeded breath, in and out, slow and steady. Then she gets moving again, stalking across the beach, further inland, just beneath that particular tree…<p>

Webbed hands clench and begin to tremble. Her snakes hiss in anger, bearing long fangs. Lizzie whirls around, eyes fixing on the ship the _Dutchman's _just come up alongside of. Where is she? She can't have got that far. Lizzie storms back out towards the water and scans the fairly vast expanse of blue between the island and the ships. Her eyes land on a boat not too far out; two figures inside are rowing with vigor, keeping up an impressive speed. Oh, how sweet. They think they have a chance.

Drawing her sword, she moves forward as if to push into the water again, intending to take them down herself.

"Mother." Her voice is strong and steady.

Lizzie turns, slow this time, grip on her sword tightening as she brings it up. Emily's hand shoots to her own sword, perhaps on pure instinct; she doesn't draw it. She's soaked, has obviously just gone for a swim herself, but she doesn't appear winded, which is odd. Mother and daughter come to face each other, just staring, each waiting to see what the other will do.

Emily's hand brushes over top of the blade at her hip, and she looks thoughtful, calculating. "I don't want a fight."

"You thought there was any other way this could end?" Lizzie's surprised.

"I _think_," Emily pauses, relaxes a fraction, draws her hand away from her sword to hold both of them up in surrender, "I think I now have something you can't afford to lose."

"I know." Lizzie spits back, what little patience she has already wearing thin. "You beat me to it, quite a feat considering the state your grandfather found you in."

Emily doesn't bat an eyelash at the intended jab. "It pays to have a goddess on your side, I'd think you'd remember that." She glances in the direction of her ship, a hint of worry behind her eyes.

"Oh, I do. In fact, you have Calypso herself to thank for the fact that you're standing here now, don't you?" Emily's brows furrow in obvious confusion. Lizzie smirks. "Oh, so you didn't know?"

"Know what?" Her daughter asks, growing unnerved.

"Your precious goddess came to me a few weeks past, bargaining for time. Funny, the thing that sealed the deal was the life of a man who should no longer be alive. That's the second dead man walking I now know of. Runs the risk of upsetting a most delicate balance, you know."

Emily's eyes widen briefly as she processes. "What?" She mutters. "But she – she can't have. She's the one who sent me to…"

"To get him back? She's a goddess, dear. Fickle beings, the gods. What did you expect?"

Emily's eyes harden. She throws her shoulders back, haughty. "Well, then, I believe that's two things I have that you'll be wanting back. Papa and the heart, they'll both be safe and sound on my ship by now."

"Safe and sound?" Lizzie interjects, snorting. Is her daughter delusional?

A smirk plays at Emily's lips, one hand coming up to rest on her hip. "Aye, and they'll remain so, because the moment my men see that you're ship is preparing to fire is the moment the cannon that's aimed at your heart by now goes _bang_."

Lizzie scrutinizes her, stalking forward a bit and beginning to trace a slow circle around the younger woman. A moment passes, she comes to a halt standing just before her daughter now, and she can't tell for certain, but… "You're bluffing."

Emily's expression gives nothing away. It's almost impressive. "Do you want to take that chance?" She mimics Lizzie's earlier move, tracing a slow circle around her mother, only more haughty than predatory. One of Lizzie's snakes darts out to snap at her daughter's nose, causing Emily to pull back with a grimace. "Erm, unless you've got some manner of morbid curiosity going and you want to join ole Davy Jones wherever he ended up. Can't say I'd want to find out, myself." Lizzie hesitates. Her daughter smirks again. "Ah, and now you're listening."

Lizzie almost shudders. When – how? – did Emily start to sound less like her father and more like Jack Sparrow? This whole conversation is taking a turn for the utterly strange. Lizzie's growing curious to spite herself. "What are you suggesting, then?"

"Now, there's the question." Emily holds up a finger. "I'm suggesting something potentially far more satisfying for you than simply tossing my papa back in the locker. Because, I mean, you want him to suffer, but surely it'd be that much more satisfying if you can _see _it?"

"You went through the trouble of bringing him back only to suggest to me a way of making things worse for him?" Now Lizzie's just confused.

"I went through the trouble of bringing him back – well, I don't know why I went through the trouble of bringing him back, do I?" Emily scowls in a flippant way. "All we bloody well do is fight anyway, and he and Alex, don't get me started. It's been a disaster, if I'm honest, haven't had a moments peace in months." She waves a hand, careless.

She's playing at something. She must be. Lizzie just doesn't know what. "Alright. You have my attention."

"Oh, good, you admit it, now we're getting somewhere." Emily goes on smoothly. "Here's the deal. Last I heard of my charming stepmother, you had her serving on the _Dutchman_, aye? Think about that a moment, if you will, Captain. Mrs. Jade Turner, serving on the _Flying Dutchman_, no doubt a little the worse for wear by now. It's papa's worst nightmare! Allow him the chance to see her and you'll have all the pain and suffering your vengeful little black heart could possibly desire, never mind if he could be convinced to serve on the _Dutchman _himself."

"And you'd hand him over to me?" Lizzie asks slowly. "Just what is it you'd be trading his life for?"

This draws a wince out of Emily, just the slightest hint of one, but Lizzie revels in the small victory anyway. Emily hesitates a bit, perhaps choosing her words. "Your help. Very simple really.

"Help? All this trouble just to ask for help?" Lizzie's skeptical now, and growing impatient again. "Why would I help you?"

"Well, there's the point of all this, right there. It's a…rather large problem I have, and I needed to be sure you'd listen."

Lizzie studies her. "I'll want the Chest back."

"You'll get the Chest back," Emily replies quickly, "I don't want the thing. You can bury it back in the sand for all I care…just as soon as my problem is taken care of."

Lizzie snorts. "Oh, now, see, here's the thing, dear." She draws her sword. "I think you're forgetting that you're all alone out here." She holds it up to her daughter's neck (somewhere in that far off corner of her mind, _Elizabeth_ stirs at this, screams _no_, but Lizzie ignores her.) "And only one of us can be hurt."

Lightning flashes, not too far out now. The thunder rolls, and it seems the storm that's been threatening is moving more rapidly as if in response to Lizzie's mood.

Emily goes rigid, eyebrows raising as she stares down Lizzie's blade. "Erm, right. Excellent point, but might I remind you of the cannon that could blow the Chest itself to kingdom come." Her voice is shakier now.

"I'm almost willing to bet your bluffing." Lizzie presses forward just an inch, the point of her sword pricking a shallow cut in Emily's neck.

"Aye, then, well. In that case." And then…she vanishes. Literally. Lizzie blinks, lowering her sword a fraction, and even her snakes go silent in confusion. What the hell has just happened? The sound of a sword being drawn reaches her ears. "Ah ha!" Emily's voice rings out from somewhere behind her. "I knew I'd get that down eventually."

Lizzie whirls around, staring blankly. Emily's standing in the sand just a few feet away, one hand holding her sword, the other planted on her hip sassily. "What sort of witchery is this?"

"Ah, nothing too different from your little parlor tricks, turns out I can do that and then some, something to do with being born of an immortal, though I'm also told gaining the favor of a goddess helps. Could be I have a leg up on you in that case, quite a feat I suppose, seeing as I've only got the one." She holds up her bad leg and knocks on the wooden peg.

A surge of annoyance heats Lizzie's blood. "Enough!" She hisses, charging forward with her sword. It clashes with Emily's, who blocks the attack solidly to spite her earlier hesitance to fight at all. "Your father and I always knew that mouth would get you into trouble one day!"

More lightning. The thunder crashes more than it rolls this time; the ground beneath them rumbles, but the rains hold off.

Emily snorts. "Last I checked I got that from you, though at least I still have a pretty face to make up for it!"

Lizzie pulls back and lunges again, and then they're storming right across the beach as the thunder rolls and crashes and the wind picks up. Lizzie's snakes dart out whenever her daughter gets close, hissing as they attempt to sink their fangs into flesh. Emily is quick, though, to spite her leg, and is very good with her blade. Under different circumstances, Lizzie might even be enjoying the challenge being presented her. As it is, she can't bring herself to be anything less than annoyed at best. It's because of this annoyance that she takes so long to realize…her daughter's leg. It's a very distinct disadvantage here in the sand. Emily's used to it by now, is young and strong and has obviously learned how to compensate for it, but if Lizzie can time it just right… She pretends to hesitate as another crack of thunder shakes the earth beneath them, stumbling over a charred old crate sitting half buried in the sand. This should leave Emily with two simple options – take what could be her only chance to slow Lizzie down, or anticipate Lizzie's next move and hold back.

There's no time to deliberate. Emily, impulsive as her mother knew she would be, lunges forward, aiming for her mother's leg. Lizzie sweeps to the side easily, jabs with her own blade, pushes forward, and twists. Emily's good leg gives out in an instant; her free hand shoots down to clutch at the wound as she cries out in pain. She doesn't collapse, though, and she's tough, Lizzie will give her that. She brings up her sword, ready to keep going.

(_Elizabeth_ is crying out now, getting louder, trying to make it _stop_, but Lizzie shoves her back. Shut it, shut _it_.)

Their swords clash again, but Emily is shakier now. She blocks most every attack, but isn't moving as fast. It isn't long before her blade slips, and that's what Lizzie needed. She slices through Emily's one arm, the side of her stomach, across her cheek. Emily manages to bring her blade up again still, blocking the one last attack, but she's half limping, favoring a leg that's bad to begin with, can't keep her balance. She's thrown back, dropping her sword in an effort just to catch herself.

Lizzie cackles. Oh, this will be good. She'll bring back the battered supposed captain to her precious _Queen_ and the rest should be easy for all that Emily's crew will be terrified if they have any sense. Lizzie will have her heart and Will and…and…

Her victory is very short lived. The thunder is beginning to grow quieter again; the strange storm seems to already be running its course. The sun peers through a small break in the clouds and with the sudden light, Lizzie is given a glimpse of what she's actually dealing with. Emily's wounds are healing right before her eyes, stitching themselves back together inhumanly fast.

Emily grabs her sword and climbs to her feet, that infuriating smirk playing at her lips again. "Born of an immortal." She repeats slowly. "We could do this all day and both come out none the worse for wear."

Lizzie forces herself to pause, thinks on that a moment. It's beginning to sound as though, just maybe, her daughter actually knows what she's doing here. (_Elizabeth _would be applauding, is relieved and beyond impressed. Lizzie grudgingly admits she is as well). "Immortal?"

"Immortal." Emily twirls her sword a bit as she brings one hand up to wipe the blood from her now unblemished skin. "You should've tried asking our goddess about just what you are. Now you've got some catching up to do." The smirk fades, any trace of the façade she's been keeping up falling away. "We can keep going, if it'll make you feel better, but it won't get either of us where we want to be."

Lizzie eyes her a moment, then nods slowly. "Very well." She sheathes her sword. "How do you propose we do this, then?"

"I keep the heart, insurance, but pop over to my _Queen, _grab Papa and send him on his way – you, erm, wait here, if you'd be so kind. Bit of peace of mind on my end. Anyway, ten long years at sea, I don't suppose you're that over eager to be back on the _Dutchman _again, aye?"

Emily doesn't have the key. That considerably lessens the amount of what Elizabeth has to lose. Eager to sink her claws back into Will and growing weary of her daughter's nattering, Lizzie reaches out with one webbed hand in response, snatching the younger woman's to wash away the dark, ugly Spot marring her palm. Emily looks down, perhaps a touch green about the gills as she snatches her hand back covered in a greenish slime. "Deal."

* * *

><p>"Cap'n!" Jo stutters, causing Alex to pause in the pacing he's been keeping up ever since they made it back to the <em>Queen<em>. Will's been sitting on the steps leading up to the helm, leaning forward with arms on his knees, but shoots to his feet at Jo's exclamation.

Sure enough, Emily's standing on deck now, still wet from her impromptu swim and looking a little the worse for wear, but none of the wounds appear to have lasted. "Emily!" Alex exclaims, quite forgetting himself it seems as he shoots forward to grab her by the shoulders, looking her over. "Are ye alright? How did ye…"

"Another useful little magic trick," Emily grins, toothy, "and stop worrying, I'm alright." She looks past the boy, to Will, her smile fading just slightly. "There's been a slight change in plans, though." She pulls out of Alex's arms, crossing the deck to Will. "It was the only way I could make it work. She wants you."

"Me?" Will glances at the _Dutchman_ nervously. "How did she know…?"

Emily's eyes harden a touch. "My goddess had something to do with that, it seems. I'll be sure to bring it up the next time she sees fit to pay me a visit. The point is, I've managed to convince mother… well, it doesn't matter, none of it was true of course." She meets his eyes as though worried he won't believe her. "But she thinks we've worked out a trade."

"Trade? And what is it she thinks you're trading me for?"

"Her help in solving a problem. Never mind the fact the problem is her." Emily seems rather proud of herself. "Point is, I've got it worked out now. She's waiting on the beach." She turns halfway to address her first mate, as though just thinking of it. "Jo…"

"Riley reappeared not too long after these two made it back to the ship." Jo answers, knowing what Emily was going to ask without the younger woman actually having to ask it. "He's…well, you'll see. He's down in your cabin, and yes, everything's set up already."

Emily nods. "Get a boat ready again." She turns back to Will as Jo barks at several others to carry the order out.

"So, I row over quite on my own and hope that you've managed to cast the spell by the time I get there?" He tries not to sound quite as uneasy as this is making him.

"We _will _have it cast by then. You just – worry about what you'll say to mother. We've only got one shot at this, especially now."

"Comforting."

Emily's façade falls, just a moment. "Hope, remember? Never let go of it. Jo told me something just the other day – the opposite of love is indifference, not hate. Mother must still care somehow if she wants you back so bad. You just – have to make her remember when things were _good_, right?"

"Seems to be a lot of the good was tainted by bad in some form or another." Will shakes his head, resigned. "Emily, if this doesn't work…"

"It _will_." She cuts him off firmly, sounding more the captain again. "I'm more worried about…just remember everything I told mother was a lie."

"You do seem to be rather talented at that."

"Well, I don't think anyone will be complaining if said talent just happens to have saved all our arses." She softens a fraction again. "Please, Papa. Just trust me."

He presses a kiss to her forehead. "Aye, Cap'n." And with that, he leaves her.

* * *

><p>Now, Emily is proud of herself. And why shouldn't she be? She's all but won already! And she did it without a sword ending up in someone's chest. And Riley! He's here! He's safe! It's all smooth sailing from here, surely. She'll go down with Jo, cast the spell all slow and careful like they'd gone over with Ana countless times, and her papa will do his thing… in fact, that's the only thing that has her remotely worried, but if there's anything at all left of her mother, even that should go just fine. Really, it should. It <em>will<em>.

She turns to Jo and Alex, a smile threatening to spread her lips again, but neither of them looks happy. In fact, they exchange a look and Jo's got on that scowl-grimace that suggests something is really, very wrong. "What is it?" Emily asks, a hint of worry beginning to fray her nerves.

"About Riley." Jo hesitates. "The thing is…"

Any trace of the smile fades in an instant. "He did get the key?" She feels bad the moment the words leave her mouth. "I mean…"

Alex's face contorts in abrupt anger. "Aye. He could barely walk, never mind the fact 'e's been talkin nonsense since 'e made it back, but sure, 'e got yer bloody key!"

Emily shakes her head, unable to respond, unable to think past Riley and the words 'could barely walk'. Spinning around, hands shaking, she darts below decks and heads straight for her cabin as her heart sinks down to where her stomach should be.

* * *

><p><em><strong>We're just about there now. One more chapter and we'll have Elizabeth back. I'm going to try and get it up before Christmas, but that might not happen as I have some school work that needs focusing on this week and I might not want to do much more than just relax a bit the next one knowing myself. <strong>_

_**That said, just in case this is my last update, Merry Christmas everybody!**_


	65. Released

_Emily shakes her head, unable to respond, unable to think past Riley and the words 'could barely walk'. Spinning around, hands shaking, she darts below decks and heads straight for her cabin as her heart sinks down to where her stomach should be._

The door to her cabin swings open while she's still several paces away. She stops short when she finally reaches the doorway, startled; she hadn't used her magic. Treading with a bit more caution now, she steps forward and peers into the room. The sun is shining, the bizarre squall from earlier having blown clear over. Her desk is what catches her attention first; it's set up with several unlit candles, Jo's spell book, a bowl of some sort of dried herbs that Emily never bothered to ask about, and the Chest. Beneath it all a sheet is spread out, painted with symbols and letters of some language now forgotten by all but those who can do what she and Jo can.

Riley. She curses herself for the way her focus keeps wavering.

Is that humming? She'd know that voice anywhere.

Turning slowly, her eyes finally fall on the most urgent of her many pressing problems. He's laid out in her bed, sleeping it looks like. Quite peaceful, which doesn't fit with Alex's earlier comment at all. Emily's not surprised, though, or so much worried anymore. Her eyes land on the source of the soft humming and narrow. No, now she's just really, very _annoyed_. So annoyed, it borders on outright anger, and she has to take several deep breaths to keep from saying whatever first comes to mind.

Calypso doesn't even glance in Emily's direction. She continues to hum softly, one hand running through Riley's ginger waves, gentle and soothing.

Forcing herself to relax, Emily takes a few more tentative steps forward. "My goddess." Nothing. The humming continues. "Is – is he…" Emily trails off. She can't get the word out.

"Dead?" Her goddess finishes for her, softly, still not looking at her. "It was a very close ting, indeed. But no. Him alive and well."

Emily lets out a breath she hadn't realized she was holding. Alive. He's alive, he's alive, he's alive. The rest is just trifles in comparison to that single revelation. "Alex said he could barely walk, was talking nonsense."

"Dere was dat risk, wakin him up before him was through wit his task."

The anger comes back, full force. "You…you 'woke him up', you…I thought I did something wrong, with the spell!"

Her goddess does look to her now, sharply. "Oh no, dat yeh did beautifully."

"But why? Why not just leave him then, he would've been fine that way!"

"Do yeh know dat?" Her goddess fires back, quick and sharp. "De boy might've been caught either way. Under de spell him would have walked right off to his death! Did yeh not know how de spell worked, hm?"

Walked right off to his death? No, Emily had not known that. But Ana had warned her this was darker magic than any of them were used to. She dips into a grudging curtsy. "Thank you, my goddess."

Calypso turns back to Riley. "De damage to de mind I can fix. Him will need rest."

"My goddess." The anger is still there. Fists clenching, Emily shoots forward a few more steps, near hovering over her goddess. A familiar pressure is trying to build in her gut, and it's all she can do to hold it back. "Giving me this terrible power and then keeping it from me, and the visions… I found a third option and you interfered again!"

Her goddess shoots her a warning look. "I saved de boy from your mistake!"

"I don't care!" Emily explodes back. "I mean…that's not the point! Is – is no decision mine alone to make anymore?"

"No." Her goddess replies, simple and calm. "Dat was always de way it would come to be, young one. De fates, dey can sometimes be persuaded to change de course of a life. But not yours. Born of an immortal. Yeh are too important for dat."

The power threatening to build inside Emily spills over, the pressure building at a pace far more rapid than she's used to. The world around her begins to shake. The windows begin to rattle, the ritual materials set up on her desk begin to hover just above it precariously. "Get. Out." She says, low and quiet, demanding.

Her goddess shoots to her feet, expression thunderous. For a moment, it almost seems as though she's ready to flick her wrist and send another bolt of lightning crashing down right into Emily's cabin to finish the job the first one didn't quite accomplish. Emily stands her ground, fists clenched, half daring the goddess to do her worst. She almost wants to see just what will happen.

Her goddess shakes her head though, and backs off slowly. "Der will be plenty of chances for yeh to test de waters with yehr power." She holds out a hand, palm up, and in it appears and large key. "I am not yehr enemy, young one."

Emily snatches it up to clutch it in a hand shaking with barely controlled rage. "I'm not sure of what you are any longer."

"Yeh'll come to me again." Her goddess replies, smooth and once again calm. "But until den yeh'll not hear another word from me."

"Cap'n!" Jo's voice interrupts, footsteps echoing down the corridor.

Emily glances back at her doorway, and when she turns back, her goddess is gone.

* * *

><p>Will grips the oars so tight his knuckles are white by the time he's halfway to his destination. He can just make out a lone figure pacing the beach of the tiny island, and nothing about all of this is sitting right with him. Emily had been having a reoccurring vision, for months she'd said, about this battle she was supposed to have with her mother. It wasn't supposed to turn out well. Emily seems to think she's fixed that, mainly by adding the Connelly boy into the mix, but even if she did… Alex hadn't been exaggerating. Connelly had been badly limping and babbling utter nonsense by the time he popped back into existence on deck of the <em>Queen.<em>

_Pirate._ It's his daughters voice he hears, only somehow with the same tone Jack had used when he and Will had fought in the shop at Port Royale, so long ago. Will understands. This is the way of things. He'd ruined things so totally that he'd ended up quite dead and without him Emily – she'd had no one. Except for Jade. But really, it wouldn't have been fair for anyone to expect Emily to listen to her. In fact, Will wouldn't be surprised if Emily ran off just to spite Jade, and after that it was just surviving until suddenly she was on top, with her own ship and everything, and what else would he have expected of her after that other than what she'd done? Take what you can, give nothing back. Pirate. It's in her blood.

Sure, he understands perfectly. He just doesn't have to like it.

He reaches land, gets out to settle the long boat half out of the water, although some cynical part of him wants to believe this is pointless. He can't possibly be lucky enough for any of this to work out the way his daughter is so hoping it will. A by now well-developed habit has him reaching for the flask usually tucked into his vest…but then he remembers. Sparrow had tossed all the rum before they'd left Shipwreck. Pirates in that boys blood too, but he isn't acting much like it of late, there's a remarkable irony in that…

Will's flask is quite empty by now, needless to say, but maybe that's for the best anyway.

A little ways off, the strange figure pacing the sandy shore turns in his direction and freezes. He can feel her glare all the way from where he's standing. Taking a steadying breath, he begins trudging towards her.

* * *

><p>Jo glances uncertainly in Riley's direction, looking like she almost wants to dart to his side. "Is – is he…"<p>

"Leave him." Emily says, tone clipped as she comes to stand before her desk, moving the chest so it sits on the chair next to her. She can feel the look Jo gives her, the hesitant scowl-grimace that silently asks 'what is the matter with you?', and locks eyes with the older woman. "He'll be fine, Jo." All business, none of the feigned over-confidence she's been keeping up. She looks back down at the chest. "Please."

She can feel the power inside her, still building slowly. She can't stop it once it starts. It has to have somewhere to go. The sheer will power she's expanding in holding it back is… beyond what she'd have known herself to be quite capable of, in honesty. She forces herself to keep it up, hold it back, let it build…she has a feeling she really will need it all here.

There's a brief moment of silence, and then Jo crosses the room to stand beside her, taking her spell book off the desk and sending a wary glance at the Chest. "Go on, then."

Emily brings up one hand, shaking now with the effort of holding back, and inserts the key.

* * *

><p>He blinks and she's just before him. A nasty set of serpents atop her head – a new addition, and here he'd thought she couldn't possibly fall any farther – writhe and hiss, bearing long fangs and darting out to snap at him. He stumbles a step back, a little startled.<p>

"If I'd known you'd be as difficult as Jack," she spits, stalking after him, "I would've kept you on the ship with me."

He nearly trips as he runs into the long boat, unable to move back any farther. "Nice to see you too, my love." He replies steadily, even manages to inject some sarcasm.

She only sneers.

* * *

><p>It's really there. Not that Emily had doubted it, per se. But some things just can't quite be comprehended in full until they are seen with one's own eyes. Her mother's heart, tucked away in a chest and still beating strong…is one of those things.<p>

Jo glances in her direction again, eyebrows raised. "We need it there." She points to a place in the middle of Emily's desk, a blank space on the sheet surrounded by the symbols.

Emily's sure she's pulling an awful face by now, but she can't help it, even though she is just as fascinated as repulsed. She reaches out, hesitates, her hand hovering just inches away from the slimy, beating organ. _Think of papa, think of papa, there's no time to lose…_ She forces her hand to close the distance and clasp the thing gently. Head tilting in a morbid curiosity, she brings it up and watches, feels it as it beats in her hand.

Jo's eyes fix on it, and she goes a touch green about the gills, looking away again quickly. "Right then."

Emily sets the heart on her desk, just where Jo said, and wipes her hand on the sheet, just managing to hold back a shiver of disgust. "Alright. What's next?"

* * *

><p>"I wonder, how does it feel? Sold so easily by your own daughter." Captain Swan mocks him as he inches to the side, attempting to skirt around the long boat.<p>

"I suppose that depends. What is it you think she sold me for?" There's a pause at this. "Or didn't she tell you?"

"I didn't care." The captain hisses. "No price would have been too high."

"Oh?" Will just manages to skirt around the boat now, darts over to stand behind it just so as to have room to breathe. "Not even if the price was your heart, all locked up tight in that chest? That was the price, wasn't it?"

He can't gauge her mood; she looks impatient, annoyed, but also wary and perhaps curious. It's strange how those eyes can still convey such emotion. "Yes. But it will only do her so much good, being that it is locked up tight. What are you getting at?"

"Is it, though? Locked up tight?"

* * *

><p>Jo shuts the window and lets the drapes down over it, plunging the room into relative darkness. Emily lights the candles, one by one, and pours what's left in the pouch Ana gave her into the bowl – the herbs she hadn't asked about. She almost does now, but figures it's probably not that important.<p>

Jo lays the book out on the last bit of empty space on the desk and takes one of the candles, holding it out to light what's in the bowl on fire. "Remember, we can't do this in a rush. If it's to work, we must get the words just right. Ready?"

Emily nods once. Jo sets the bowls contents to burning.

* * *

><p>"Of course it is, I've got the key!" Captain Swan's had enough, it seems, because she's moving forward again, using her strange gifts to walk right through the boat , and that's just – dramatic and unnecessary, annoyingly so. His own thoughts are beginning to mimic his daughters sass. Except her sass often, lately, seems to mimic Jack's for some reason, so really, Will can't even tell what's what any more.<p>

He doesn't bother trying to get away this time. There's nothing for it now. Either Emily comes through within the next brief moments, or – well, he finds the 'or' a little too much to contemplate just at the moment. Emily will come through.

Won't she?

* * *

><p>"Σπασμένο σε δύο, ένα πνεύμα σε ερείπια. Ομορφιά τόσο αλλοιωμένο, μια καρδιά σκληρή σαν πέτρα. Ειλικρινής αγάπη για να καθορίσει ποια τίποτα άλλο δοχείο. Φέρτε το φως στην επιφάνεια και να κάνει πάλι το δύο ολόκληρες."<p>

Over and over the words leave their lips as the bowl of whatever-it-is burns and the smoke fills the room. Eyes closed, Emily can feel her power building further inside her, but a small voice whispers for her to hold on just a little longer. She doesn't know why she listens, but she does.

Something strange is happening. Although, that's kind of pointless to think, strange is the norm for her. But this is even more unusual than her usual bounds of what's unusual. She feels as though she's floating. Not bodily, floating – outside her body? This is not a feeling she's ever come close to experiencing before, she couldn't describe it if she tried. She just feels somehow far removed from everything. She can see herself now, and Jo, lips still moving so precisely. Her body seems to be doing what it needs to without her actually inside it. What?

She isn't left with too long to contemplate it all. It's like she's having a vision – a very hazy vision whilst three sheets to the wind. She just catches little glimpses, hears bits and pieces of conversations, but past ones. She remembers what she's seeing. It's all out of order. She sees herself as a little girl, giving Alex a kiss on the cheek after he presents her with a birthday present. A little older, with her baby brother in her lap, really a baby, cooing happily as she bounces him gently like papa showed her. Younger again, the first time she came face to face with her goddess while imprisoned on the _Revenge_. Older still this time, having a last fight with her papa as he makes to leave her for the last time.

She starts to see darker moments after this. The moment she stepped out of the place she once called home, leaving her brother behind. Talking to Adrienne. Fighting with Adrienne, Emily's hand inching towards the pistol at her waist. Aiming that same pistol at Adrienne, giving her the choice to be shot or be fish food, and meaning it more than she admitted to herself at the time. Then there are several glimpses leading up to her very much betraying Anamaria, although it was an ultimately forgiven betrayal. It's all her worst moments, leading up to…

Shooting Peter Montgomery.

And Riley. Poor, naïve, trusting Riley. _Good_ Riley. This is the longest moment she's shown. She watches herself charm him, all sweet smiles and smooth talk, and the kiss.

_Pirate_, the whispering voice from earlier is back, but it's a little harsher, accusing. _Selfish. Manipulative._

She's sent swimming through several more memories. Good ones. Singing to Joshy for the first time. Joshy catching her and Alex together; kicking Alex out and having Joshy stay, even singing to him. Saving her father, traipsing through the desolate wasteland that was the Locker at the End of the world, determined even though it looked like all hope was lost. And then it's forgiving her brother even after he told their papa things that were Emily's business to tell.

_Pirate. _The voice decides again. _There's a sliver of ice in this one's heart. But I can still work with these two._ _I see what needs doing. Brace yourselves, tiny ones. This may not be pleasant._

Emily tries to, but isn't given much time to even think on it. Just like that, she is thrown back into her own body. Quite literally, it feels like. It's so jarring to suddenly be back in perfect control of herself that she, well, loses control. The power spills out in a blinding flash of bluish light, forceful enough that Emily and Jo are thrown back towards the window, and all goes dark…

* * *

><p>The serpents are hissing again, darting out too quick to be avoided. One catches Will's arm as he brings it up to shield his face, and he cries out in pain. Captain Swan cackles, a truly terrifying sound where once her laughter made his heart soar. He hears a sword being drawn and thinks about drawing his own, but she can't be hurt, so he can't beat her. All he can do is…is…<p>

But wait, she's stopped. She's stopped?

He's still got his arms up to shield his face, but he thinks, maybe, he hears a sword land in the sand with a muffled 'thump'. He lowers his arms, slowly, wary. She's backed up, is several paces away now. The sword is indeed lying forgotten in the sand. She's staring down at her hands, eyes wide with something like horror.

"Elizabeth?" He asks, soft and tentative.

She looks startled. Her eyes dart up to gaze at him, growing wider if that's possible. "Wi-Will." She breathes. She steps forward, her movements sudden, arms twitching in such a way it almost looks as if she means to embrace him. He flinches involuntarily, and she restrains herself, beginning to wring her hands instead. "Will." She repeats. "Something's changed, I don't…"

He approaches her, his movements slow and cautious. He meets her eyes, searching. They are wide and frightened and confused, but there's no hostility there. In fact, he thinks he sees… "It worked." He murmurs, incredulous.

"Worked? What worked?" She asks, shaky.

"This spell." He tries to find a way to explain. He should've thought this through beforehand. "Emily has this strange sort of power she can use, and there was a spell in a book…" She looks, physically, like the monster that made him tie his own noose, but her movements, the look in her eyes, everything else screams _his _Elizabeth. He reaches out on impulse and takes her hands in his own. "Elizabeth. There isn't time to…I don't know how long this will last."

She looks down at his hands clasping her own, and then back up to him as her eyes harden a bit and he catches a glimpse of the hissing gorgon in them, telling him he's right to worry. "I have _her_."

He doesn't have to ask to know who she's talking about. "I know."

"She introduced herself as Missus Jade Turner."

Will has no idea what would have possessed Jade to do that. It can't have done much to improve Captain Swan's mood at the time. Then again, Jade could be just as feisty and defiant as the rest of the women in his life when she wanted to be, so perhaps there was no solid logic behind it. "That was a lie. Not that that changes much, I expect."

A pause. Elizabeth regards him with uncertainty. "You didn't marry her?"

"No. She asked me to." Maybe if he can get just the right words out here… "But I couldn't."

Elizabeth's confused now, it's written all over her face. Quite a feat considering the only thing human about her is the fact she's walking on two legs. "Couldn't?"

"You asked me once, if I loved her." He goes on, softer.

"You said you didn't know."

"I didn't, at the time, but I had it figured the moment I laid eyes on her again. I cared for her. She gave me a son."

He doesn't realize he's still holding her hands until she pulls them away and he's catching another glimpse of the monster pacing within her. "I know. I met the boy, too. I pitied him. Left all alone." She softens again, quick and abrupt. "He was ready to die in his mother's stead."

"She's a remarkable woman, in her way." He meets Elizabeth's eyes again, catching her gaze deliberately. "But I didn't love her."

Elizabeth looks away, a hand coming up to clutch at her head. "That changes nothing." She spits, harsh, but softens again in an instant. "That was so long ago."

"Nothing's changed since then."

"Then why?" She looks back up to him again, seeming desperate. "Can you tell me why you… why you took to her as you did?"

He shakes his head. He's asked himself that too many times to count. "I would, if I knew myself. I could give you excuses, Elizabeth, but none of them would be good enough."

"Then why are we here? You must have thought you could repair, repair me, repair us, just…fix it."

"Emily, she's smart that girl. Cleverer than me, more often the not. She gets these visions. I think it's something she saw in them, I don't know. But she believed you weren't lost in full. She's also the one who believed that this - that we – could be fixed." He takes her hands again. "I said no, at first. But then I got to thinking. About you, remembering when things were – do you remember, when we were children, that game you'd have us playing down by the beach when you'd sneak away?"

A smile spreads her lips, revealing horridly jagged teeth in reality, but he can just imagine seeing that smile on a pretty, tanned, _human _face again. "Pirates." She laughs. "With sticks for swords."

"If I recall correctly, _you _were the pirate. I was always meant to be the Navy."

"Father let me read too much. All those books full of adventures, I wanted nothing more than to have one myself."

He chuckles himself now. "You'd get tripped up by your skirts in the sand and end up all wet. I was always terrified someone would come after me for it, that was adventure enough at the time!"

"Oh, you had fun too, otherwise why on Earth would you have come with me?"

He grows serious again, brings a hand up slowly to cup her cheek. "Because it was worth it to see your smile, hear you laugh. You were always worth any risk. Just like finding you again was worth the risk this time. I'm not saying it will be easy. I'm sorry if I'm too late now, but I had to try. I had to know if this could work, even knowing what would happen if it didn't."

He thinks, maybe, there's a tear sliding down her scaled cheek now. She opens her mouth, but no words come out, and she pulls away, stumbles back. The serpents atop her head begin hissing, writhing in what could be pain. She clutches at her head, fingers threaded between them. "No! Go away, go away!" She cries, but Will doesn't get the impression she's talking to him. His heart wrenches as she cries out, and he shoots forward – to do what, he's not certain – but she lashes out as he gets close, throwing him back with the same unnerving amount of strength that their daughter is known to possess. He stumbles, falls back into the sand, and just watches in wide eyed wonder and something not unlike horror as Elizabeth begins to…well, there's two of her. The monstrous snake woman, and his Elizabeth with her beautiful golden locks and sun kissed skin. Both are posed as she had been a moment ago, clutching their heads, doubled over in pain. A painful bright flash of bluish light assaults his senses, and he turns away so as not to be blinded.

The light recedes, and then – nothing. Silence.

Will turns back to Elizabeth. The separate figures have become one again; her slight figure is laid out in the sand. The snakes are gone. Long, golden brown waves replace them, draped over her shoulder and across the sand like a shimmering waterfall. She's a rather strange sight otherwise. The scales have begun to fall away of their own accord, but there are still patches remaining on her skin. The strange fins on her arms are gone. The webs on her hands are tattered, look ready to fall away as well. But the barnacles and other assorted creatures adorning her clothes have also fallen away, and she looks much less a fright than she had.

He climbs to his feet, makes his way over to her slowly, crouches next to her. Gently brushes her soft waves away from her face. "Elizabeth." He murmurs.

Her eyes flutter open and trail up to meet his. He helps her sit, and the remaining scales adorning her skin are shed as she moves. Before he can say or do anything else, her arms are around him, and she's sobbing into his shoulder. He wraps his arms around her and buries his face in her hair and tries to grasp onto the fact that this is _real_. Not a dream. He's had those, dreams of how his would go. He really hopes this isn't one. "What did I say?" He murmurs softly into her ear. "I'm not sure I know."

She laughs, half hysterical, pulling back to look at him. "You just…you sound like my husband again. My Will."

He cups her cheek again – her skin is pale, but soft – and before he can think about what he's doing his lips are covering hers, and for the first time in what feels a lifetime…the world feels _right _again.

* * *

><p><em><strong>The chant is in Greek (thank you, Google), because it looks different enough to me. I'm thinking their probably speaking the most ancient form of that, or any language from that-ridiculously-long-ago in ancient history. The point is, their using a language that should be dead or thoroughly unknown to them.<strong>_

_**The translation: I'm not a poet, by any stretch of the imagination, but I did try.**_

**Broken in two, a spirit in ruins. Beauty so tainted, a heart hard like stone. Honest love to fix what nothing else can. Bring light to the surface and make the two whole again. **

_**And with that, we have Elizabeth back! I just hope I didn't disappoint with the finale to this arch. Reviews? Thanks for reading. :)**_


	66. Consequences

_**To answer the question of my most recent reviewer – no, this story is not even close to over yet. I have plenty of ideas for how to keep going, so I'll keep writing as long as there are people still reading. Gaps between updates may be pretty long sometimes, especially over these next few weeks as I have some things going on with the classes I'm taking, but I **_**will **_**keep updating. :)**_

* * *

><p><em>He cups her cheek again – her skin is pale, but soft – and before he can think about what he's doing his lips are covering hers, and for the first time in what feels a lifetime…the world feels right again.<em>

.

Elizabeth wishes this moment could last forever. Really, she does. She'd love nothing more than to sit here in his arms and pretend that it's always been like this. In fact, she allows herself that for some time; sits in her Will's arms and pretends that everything is just fine. Pretends that her daughter is just nine years old again, pretends that there is no _Jade_ to be dealt with. They can't really stay like this forever, but Will doesn't seem in too much a hurry, so she steals every second she can to just pretend and catch her breath and be Elizabeth Turner again, if only for this short, short moment.

Too short a moment. She can let herself pretend, but not for as long as she'd like. There's just too much. She's not Elizabeth Turner anymore. Nor is she the very corrupted immortal she had been, but there's still something inside her that feels just different. And Emily, well, she most certainly is not nine years old anymore. Goddess, the mouth she had on her… and Jade is a problem. A problem that's been calling herself Missus Turner – unsettling, even if it isn't true. And that problem leads to an even bigger one in the form of a young boy who calls Emily his sister; a young boy that Elizabeth most certainly had no part in bringing into the world.

She sighs heavily. Will tightens his hold on her a bit, presses a kiss into her golden waves. "I know." He says softly, as if he can read her mind. She supposes it's quite possible he's thinking about all the same things. "Where do you want to start?"

She forces herself to pull out of his arms and face him. "The boy." She decides.

"Joshua." He replies, and there's pride in his eyes. "Jade's father's name, I believe it was."

"He really is yours then? It's just, he doesn't look much like you. Certainly not the way Emily did – still does."

Will chuckles a bit. "I know. That's why we didn't name him William." That was first supposed to have been Emily's name, had she been a boy. "It just didn't quite fit. But yes, he's mine, and I'm proud of that if not of anything else."

She won't begrudge him this. From what little Elizabeth has seen, Joshua Turner already has all the makings of what could one day add up to a good man, pirate or otherwise. "His mother." She moves on, and the thought has something stirring within her. A serpents hiss echoes in her ears, and her words grow harsh. "Almost more trouble than she's worth, the little harlot. All spit and fire even after…" She trails off. She was about to say – it's downright cruel, what she'd done to the woman. Was she really about to tell Will that? He's looking at her with a hint of worry scrunching his brows in that way she used to find adorable. She softens in an instant. "Just, she's got some fight in her. Suppose I can see what you saw in her after all." She looks away, but she can tell he saw something, in her eyes maybe? She doesn't know. All she does know is that she still doesn't feel quite herself.

"She can be rather – fiery." Will concedes. "Though, it's quite possible she only acquired that fire trying to put up with the trouble I caused her."

This gives Elizabeth pause. She'd never stopped to think about that. Jade hadn't known Will was married. And if he hadn't married her, and she'd given him a son, well, yes, the poor woman must have been very troubled in many ways, not least of which being the scorn of the others in their town. She'd have been left with little choice but to toughen up and deal with it. This almost earns the woman a measure of respect, but that confuses things a little too much for Elizabeth to wrap her mind around at the moment, so she shoves that away to think on it when she has room to. "She loves you."

"I know."

"I mean – not _loved_. _Loves_. She hasn't once shied away from being 'Missus Turner'." A pause. He doesn't seem to know how to respond to that. Elizabeth goes on, and that same dark thing inside her stirs again. "Tell me the absolute truth. Is she? Missus Turner?"

"No." He says, steady and with no hesitation. "I should've given her that. I sometimes wish I had. But I couldn't make myself. You can ask Emily, if you don't believe me."

Elizabeth nods slowly. She doesn't really want to get too deep into this discussion at the moment, so she grasps onto the first other thing that flitters across her mind. "Emily. Goddess, Will, that – that feisty little thing parading around with a sword at her hip and calling herself a captain, is that really our little girl?"

He chuckles again. "Oh, yes. I can hardly believe it either, sometimes." The amusement fades all too quickly, replaced by a hint of something sad and wistful. "I fall asleep some nights wishing to wake up and have all this be a dream, just to have a bouncing little nine year old run up and beg me to take her down to the docks to see the ship coming in. Now she's the one captaining the ship, and it's all I can do to keep myself from losing it when she's off to some tavern with her men as if she's no different than them."

"From what I've seen, she isn't much different at all." Elizabeth scowls. "The fates certainly do have a strange and unusual sense of humor. When I faced her earlier, she sounded for all the world as if she'd been taking lessons directly from Jack Sparrow!"

"You don't yet know the half of it. There's a boy she made friends with not long after she made it back from being locked up on the _Revenge. _His name is Alex Sparrow, and he can sound every bit his father's son when it suits him, but lately – the way he talks, he's beginning to remind me of myself at his age!" His eyes light up with amusement again. "Do you know, he and Emily had some sort of argument before we left Shipwreck, and I can't imagine what it was about, but it must have been interesting. She left him with the job of making sure we were well stocked with supplies, and by the time she returned, he'd managed to throw every drop of rum in the hold over board!"

Elizabeth can't help it. She tries to hold it back, but this is just priceless. She bursts into giggles. Real, actual, delighted giggles, and it feels wonderful. "Well!" She manages to gasp out in between. "I can't wait to meet him properly… I should think we'll get along swimmingly… once I tell him what happened on this island!" A fresh wave of laughter takes over as she remembers – getting Jack drunk, spending the better part of that night on the fire to signal her rescuers, and the next morning, '…but why is the rum gone?', and how right had she been proven? It takes her several moments to compose herself again, and when she does she finds that Will is just watching her now, his expression unreadable. "I'm – I'm sorry." She gasps out, taking a breath. "I just – oh, it all sounds so small and silly in comparison now, that's all."

"Sorry?" Will sounds incredulous. He reaches out to hook a finger under her chin, pulling it up gently until she meets his eyes. "Elizabeth, that, just now, that might've been the most beautiful thing I've ever heard."

Her laughter? That must be what he means. She blushes. She can feel the heat, knows her cheeks are turning pink. He used to be able to do that to her all the time, so easy. She wonders – wishes – _hopes_ that this Will could maybe be here to stay again.

Hope? When did she even remember what that was? It's too soon for that, she scolds herself. This isn't Port Royal, they're both too old to even be called young anymore, and she's still a dead woman with a job to do. It's all too complicated to get her hopes up so easily. She looks away and silence reigns for a long moment.

"We should…" He hesitates, glancing at the ships in the distance. "Emily will be wondering, worrying…"

"And I'd best get back, see if my men are faring as well as I am now."

"Emily will want to see you."

Elizabeth looks down, shakes her head. "I've no idea what I'll say to her."

"Planning that out would require you to know how she'll react, and that requires one to know how she thinks," Will brings a hand up to rub the back of his neck, "and I'm not sure anyone can get inside that girls head any longer, me included – which is to say, you might be better off just showing up and hoping for the best."

A small sigh escapes Elizabeth's lips as she gets to her feet, brushes sand off her clothes and crosses her arms. "Really is a bit like dealing with Jack, then."

Will grimaces as he gets to his feet as well and turns to head back towards the longboat still planted in the sand up the coast a ways. "Actually, let's not make that comparison out loud again. Ever."

She's already grimacing at her own words, and rather agrees with him.

* * *

><p>"Emily." A voice murmurs softly, almost cooing, coaxing her gently back to consciousness.<p>

What's happening? She can't quite... She's sore all over, stiff, like she had been after her angered goddess struck her with lightning. She's laying on something soft, though, is curled up quite warm and so comfortable she almost wants to drift back to slip.

"Emily, my dearest." Is she dreaming? That's her mother's voice. "I know it hurts, but you can't remain asleep forever."

Her mother. Oh. _Oh._ Emily forces her eyes open. She's in her cabin, laid out in the window seat. There's someone sat next to her, but she doesn't immediately recognize the slight figure with the golden brown hair, braided and resting over one shoulder. "Where – who…" She tries to form a sentence, but her throat is dry and scratchy.

The figure stands and reaches out for a mug sat on the desk, and then brings it to Emily's lips, helping her drink the water. "It's alright, just give it a moment. Calypso did say it might've left you a bit scrambled up here." She taps Emily's forehead.

How easily the goddess' name slips past her lips. There's a familiarity there far more intimate that what Emily or Jo have been privileged with. And just like that it all comes together. Her mother. The pretty, pale, golden haired figure is her mother. Strange. She no longer looks old enough to be Emily's mother; they could be the same age if one were to go simply by appearance. "Please." Emily tries to work her way into a sitting position, feeling a little wary. "Please, tell me this isn't a dream."

A small, sad smile graces her mother's lips. Her face may be young, but her eyes are not. "This is no dream. I can promise you that."

Emily's managed to prop herself up against the window now, but her muscles still protest every movement. "It does hurt. Why does it hurt?"

"These things come with a price." Her mother says, eerily repeating their goddess' words verbatim. "That price, it seems, is greater when ones heart is no longer so pure as it once was."

Emily decides, very deliberately, not to follow the line of thought that starts her on. "Alright." She draws out. "How long…"

Her mother heaves a sigh, as though that wasn't the thing Emily should've answered with and the older woman is gathering patience. "You'll need rest. You're body isn't used to the strains of healing from such things under its own power."

Emily just blinks at her. Trying to gather her thoughts and search them for what her mother could possibly mean, she tears her eyes away to look around. The curtains have been drawn back from the window, and the sun is beginning to set. She's been out for quite a while. And missed a lot in the meantime, it seems, as her mother is – well, her mother again, and somewhere in there her goddess made another appearance. "What happened?" She turns back to her mother. "Where's papa? My goddess said she'd go away for a while, when did you talk to her?"

"Well, let's see. Quite a bit has happened, I'm afraid. You papa is –," she pauses, and her eyes harden in a way that reminds Emily of the hissing gorgon who'd nearly run her through on the beach, "squaring away some things with your step-mother, along with your brother." A short pause as she studies Emily a bit. "I'll be sending her on her way as my first order of business, so if you'd like…"

Emily shakes her head. "She was not, in any way, shape, or form, my mother. I'm – glad she'll be moving on properly now, but I've nothing to say to her."

Her mother softens again. "She did try it seems, from what little I know. Are you certain?"

"Absolutely."

"Very well, then. To answer your third question, I came down to see you as soon as your father and I had – talked some things out. Our goddess paid me a visit shortly after I arrived. You were quite unconscious, so I should think she was safe as far as any promises she made to keep her distance from you a while."

"You and papa – I mean, how did – is everything…" Emily trails off, unsure of exactly what it is she wants to know.

"Alright?" Her mother ventures, snorting. "Nothing between your father and I has been 'alright' for well over ten years, I should think it'll take quite some time before we can make anything 'alright' now. I daresay we'll be lucky to get even halfway there again. But we've come to an understanding, which is a start." She reaches out, slow and a little hesitant, and brushes a strand of Emily's hair behind her ear. "Odd as it may seem, I'm no longer what any one's quite so worried about."

Emily takes her mother's hand and just holds it, looking down at it, trying to align it in her brain with the strange, webbed appendage it had been just that morning. "Mother. I'm missing something. What is it?"

A pause. "You've only just come to. Perhaps you'd best go see that friends of yours first, what was her name? Jo. She was quite a mess with worry over you. The spell exhausted her as well, but not near as much as it did you."

"No." Emily says firmly, starting to remember herself. "No, explain first." She looks up to her mother, who appears a little surprised now, but pleasantly so. "If my goddess has done something more to me, I want to know now."

Her mother hardens again, but not in the way she did earlier. This is the worried, scolding anger of a mother. "You're too quick to blame our goddess. You're problem now is something you've done to yourself."

"Oh, of course it is."

Her mother raises her eyebrows. "Our goddess said explaining what you'd done was your business, not hers, but I gather it has something to do with the boy who was still resting in your bed when I came in."

"Riley." Emily grumbles, letting her mother's hand go in favor of crossing her arms. "Yes, I suppose, it would be him." Her mother stays silent, expectant. Emily huffs. "I did what needed to be done, that's all. It's not my fault it would only work on Riley or Alex, and what was I supposed to do with such a bloody awful choice? It worked out. He got the key, you didn't get the heart, nobody got a sword through the chest. I'm not going to say sorry over nothing."

Her mother only shakes her head. "You don't need to justify yourself to me. I'm hardly in a position to judge. I only know that our goddess isn't happy. She's…decided the consequences of your actions, whatever they are, weren't enough on their own this time." She hesitates. "The reason you're hurting is because she's taken away some of your abilities."

It takes a moment for that to sink in. "Taken away? What – what do you mean, taken away? And what abilities?"

"Not permanently." Her mother stresses. "No one can simply snatch gifts such as yours away, not even a god. It's more like she's – suspended the privilege."

Emily gets to her feet now, too annoyed and anxious to sit still. She paces the length of her cabin, stretching out stiff muscles. Why does she abruptly feel like little more than a disobedient child? "And I suppose I only get it back if I'm a very good girl." She pauses before her mother, who seems unfazed by the tone her daughter is taking. "What is it she's 'suspended' then?"

"Well, the only thing she seemed to think you'd really miss – your ability to heal. You are, for the time being, just as mortal as the men you're sailing with, I'm afraid, dear."

Mortal. That's what she'd been half wishing for, right? To be normal. So why does her heart skip a beat? Why does her stomach begin to tie itself in knots? Why does the thought make her head spin with a mixture of fear and anger? "Blast! Of course she'd…" Emily cuts herself off, closes her eyes, takes several deep breaths. She still has her magic to worry about. She doesn't need an angry explosion after what she's just gone through.

"She says all you need do to earn it back is ask for her help when needed."

"Like hell I will!"

"…and now we know _why_ that's all you need do, I suppose. Feel free to deny me this, but I am rather curious now as to just what it is you've done."

"Oh, it's all so ridiculous!" She comes to sit next to her mother again, not caring who it is she's talking to in her frustration. "It's Riley. The way it was all supposed to happen, you were supposed to try and kill me! I was meant to end up with a sword straight through my heart!" Her mother draws back a bit at this, wincing. Emily softens, just a fraction. "You – weren't _you_. I'm not angry with you. I'm angry with _Her_ if I'm angry with anyone! There was this spell, you see, and it was, I don't know, not the purest magic or something like that, but it got the job done. The only problem was the victim had to be willing, there had to be a connection there already, and that left me with Riley and Alex. And Riley – he's sweet, but he's just not Alex. So I sent Riley. I suppose I'm being punished simply because I didn't do it exactly as _She _wished me to."

There's a pause. Her mother studies her in a way that makes Emily feel as though her very soul is being read. Can she do that? There is, actually, quite a bit Emily doesn't know about what her mother is. "You love him." She says after a moment, causing Emily's eyes to widen.

"How did you…" Her mother scrutinizes her a moment longer, almost as if in a shallow trance, and Emily fidgets uncomfortably. "Mother? Is something the matter?"

Finally the older woman blinks, shaking her head. "There are many answers to that question. None of them are matters I'm fit to be lecturing you on. I just know you fancied the boy, and that makes what you did a pretty nasty thing in its way."

Emily shoots to her feet, backing away slowly this time, thoroughly unnerved although she can't quite tell why. "Right. Well. I – I think you were right earlier, I ought to go see Jo, and I suppose I should go find Ri- no! Not Riley. Alex. He'll be worried too, I expect, and our holds a little empty now for my taste so I think I'll have us heading for Tortuga next, I'll just…" She turns around and reaches out for the door with one shaky hand, because she's very, very done with this whole conversation.

"Emily." Her mother says softly, and Emily freezes with her hand on the door handle but refuses to turn around. "Ignoring this isn't going to fix anything in the end."

Emily's caught between annoyance and anger and confusion and an apprehension that was supposed to go away once she'd fixed all this with her mother. She leaves without bothering to formulate a response.

That was, decidedly, _not _how that was supposed to have gone.

* * *

><p>"Oh, thank our goddess." Jo breathes as Emily finally makes an appearance. She's a little paler than is natural for her and far more subdued, but looks to be alright over all.<p>

Alex has been hiding up by the helm along with Jo, too worried to make himself busy with anything useful. He studies Emily as she climbs the steps, and finds nothing that would make him at all relieved. Her mother had been watching over her, refused to leave Emily's side; shouldn't their little captain be a bit more – excited after seeing that everything was alright now?

Emily rolls her eyes. Alex isn't sure why or at what. "You worry too much, Jo."

"With good reason." Jo plants her hands on her hips, indignant. "You've been out for hours!"

Emily only shakes her head and slips past the older woman and over to the rail, staring out to sea. "You know," she says airily, "with all the excitement I nearly forgot about Andrews still rotting down in the brig. I suppose we'd best take care of him first thing. Be nice not to have to worry about him anymore."

Jo pauses as though deliberating, then comes up next to Emily, apparently deciding to allow the subject change. "I'd have thought you'd be more anxious to head for Tortuga." She replies. "What with the hold still being half empty, as it were."

Alex rolls his eyes at this, crossing his arms.

Emily glances at Jo, vague amusement crossing her features and brightening them a touch. "I suppose I wouldn't be the only one wanting to make that our first destination, then."

"No, you wouldn't." Jo gives her a pointed look.

Emily heaves a put-upon sigh, half playful. "Oh, very well, Tortuga it is."

Alex huffs. Why is it he's the only one at all bothered by Emily's – well, constantly _not_ being bothered. "At what point, exactly, were ye plannin to at least ask about Riley? Because I know he must've crossed yer mind, at least once." If not, then Alex might just lose it.

Emily turns to him lazily, leaning back with arms propped up on the rail now behind her. "He wasn't in my cabin anymore, I assumed he was fine. Relatively, anyway. I'm probably the last person he wants to see."

"Actually, 'e asked for ye the moment 'e came to."

Her brows furrow a bit. "Really?"

"Yes, really, and I personally don't see why 'e wouldn't 'ave a thing or two to say to you."

"Full of surprises, that boy. I'll talk to him eventually."

"Peg…"

"Alex." She shoots back, eyes hardening as she sends him a mild glare. "Can you just – do us all a favor and learn when to stow it?"

Her tone is harsh enough to startle him. For a moment he's quite speechless, until the hurt settles in. Before he can manage to make a reply form itself in his mind, a familiar auburn haired blur darts up the steps and right past him.

"Emmy!" Joshy exclaims, throwing his arms around his sister's middle and burying his face in her shirt.

She softens in an instant, returning his embrace, one hand coming up to run through his unruly hair. "Why is it you always seem intent on knocking me right over?" She chuckles.

Alex watches as they go on like this, and Emily doesn't even send another glance in his direction. Feeling dismissed in a way that seems almost cruel somehow, he leaves them there.

There's a plan beginning to form itself in the back of his mind where a little voice is whispering that maybe, just maybe, this is no longer where he belongs. He tries to ignore it, but the idea refuses to leave him, and he starts to wonder. What if…

* * *

><p>It's been so long since she's had a vision that didn't involve swords and storms that Emily almost doesn't realize she's having a vision at all. The only thing that does allow her to realize this is that she herself isn't in the dream; she's just watching, tucked into a corner in the pretty front room of someone's home.<p>

"_Oh, mother." There are voices coming from a room further into the house. This one sounds exasperated. _

"_Just humor me, Imogen." The mother replies with patience._

"_I am a child no longer, you know. I suspect a woman ought to be able to make ready on her own by –_"

"_Ah, ah." Her mother scolds gently. "Best not to tempt fate by boasting of your age, now, we are running out of suitors for you as it is."_

"_Mother, please!"_

"_Forgive me, darling. I only worry for you."_

"_Too much, mother dear." The younger woman's tone turns wistful. "I do believe I have found the man for me already."_

_There's a pause. Some shuffling, the rustling of fabric, and a woman emerges, the eldest. She's a smaller woman with graying, light brown hair. Her dress is just fine enough to suggest a woman with some amount of wealth, but she has the weathered look of someone who's known hardship as well. She turns to the doorway she's just come through, hands planting themselves on her hips. "Come now, Imogene, he'll be here any moment."_

_Another short pause, and Imogene finally makes her appearance. Like her mother, she too is a tiny slip of a thing, but this only serves to make her beautiful in a way that is delicate and fragile _(and utterly foreign to Emily). _Her own light brown hair is swept back loose, with several careful curls falling to frame her china-doll face. Large eyes that almost match the sky in color come up to meet her mother's. "You look so fretful, mother. Are you sure I am presentable?" She brushes out the front of her dress, self-conscious. _

Off in the corner, Emily's eyebrows raise as she takes in the deep blue and lace of a finely embroidered ball gown.

"_Presentable?" Her mother looks almost amused for a moment. "Dearest, I should say you'll turn not a few heads, as you always do."_

"_There is only one head I wish to turn."_

"_I know. Perhaps that is what worries me."_

"_Mother." Imogene's tone is nothing short of exasperated again._

"_Oh," her mother brings one hand up to begin worrying at the sleeve of her dress near the neckline, "I am sorry, dear, It is just that he has so little to offer you. With your father gone, I have had a hard enough time trying to keep up our estate here as it is."_

"_He is a good man, mother, and he works hard."_

"_I understand that, but even so, he may not be able to care for you so well on a shop boys wages."_

"_I am not concerned with such things, mother, and have never been." Imogene softens, turning wistful again. "I believe…"_

"_Go on, then, dearest. I suspect I already know."_

"_I believe I may be quite in love."_

"_Yes, and quite right, too. He does treat you well. If you should tell me that is all you need out of it, then I suppose I shall have to settle. It is your happiness I am concerned about, after all."_

Here there is a knock at the door. Emily is thoroughly confused by now. She's never seen these two women before in her life, so why is she being shown all of this? Slipping further into the room, as she has been stationed just next to what appears to be the front door, Emily keeps watching with a feeling of foreboding.

_A servant comes to open the door, and Imogene's mother stands tall and proud as she lays eyes on the tall young man standing on her snowy doorstep. Those same eyes looks him over, scrutinizing his appearance. _

Emily's eyes widen, and she darts closer, looking over the figure standing in the doorway. He looks nothing like himself. He's not dressed as finely as Imogene, but he has obviously done his very best; is wearing cravat, vest, and coat with a hat and all. But that is him, isn't it? No. It can't be.

"_Alexander Sparrow." Imogene's mother intones, hands coming up to rest on her hips again. She pauses, perhaps just to watch him squirm; she softens a fraction after a moment. "What a handsome young devil, you make. No wonder my daughter is so taken with you."_

"_Mother!" Imogene is outright mortified now, one hand coming up to cover her mouth as she blushes._

_Alex relaxes a fraction, the ghost of a smirk tugging at his lips even as his cheeks are reddened as well now. He clears his throat and straightens up to stand at his full height like a gentleman, though his eyes dart over to steal a glance of Imogene. "Pardon me, Missus Ellsworth, but I believe you may be mistaken. It's Imogene who has me quite wrapped 'round her finger, I think."_

He doesn't even sound like himself. His accent is softened, as though someone has trained him to speak more like a gentleman. How long would such a thing take? How far into the future is this?

"_Good answer." Imogene's mother replies. "Come, come then Imogene."_

The same servant from earlier comes forward to drape a heavy shawl over Imogene's shoulders. Emily gives the girl another once over as she follows Alex out. Alex. _Emily's _Alex. Perhaps it's not very fair of her. In fact, it's downright petty. But Emily decides instantly that she doesn't like this woman, this pretty, delicate little thing who takes Alex's arm and keeps pace with him with such ladylike grace. No, she doesn't like her at all.

Emily wakes in her cabin feeling shaky and on the verge of tears. She can't fathom how all of this will take place, but she does understand one thing perfectly – she's losing Alex, and she has no idea how to go about stopping it.


	67. Goodbye Again

Two days. She avoids Riley for two full days as they sail for Tortuga, and he lets her for a few different reasons. The first and most important of them being that her avoiding him means she feels guilty, and although he _still _does not hate her, he doesn't mind the thought of letting her sit on that guilt for a while.

But after two days, his patience runs out. There's things that need saying, and really, it'll be best if he just gets it over with.

It's late on the third evening when he finally slips away from the crew, now preparing to turn in for the night, and down to her cabin. He knows her well enough to know sleep doesn't come easy to her, so it's doubtful she'll have found it yet. He knocks softly on her door, and waits in silence, hoping she'll be curious as to who it is and come to the door.

He's rewarded with the sight of her pretty, lightly freckled face peering into the hallway, eyes widening for a moment, and then she just looks resigned. "Ah." She says, sighing. "Couldn't avoid it forever, I suppose." She steps away, opening the door. "Come on, then."

He walks into her cabin, pausing to glance back at her when she closes the door. She's hesitating, and he's almost amused. He's used to her always talking, always coming out with just the right thing to say, and it's nice to know even she doesn't always have it all together. He crosses the room and makes himself comfortable in the window seat without invitation and she's studying him now, trying to figure out what's happened to him exactly. "Would you still know just what to say if I were upset? Angry? I know that's what you were expecting. I suppose I should be."

She stays where she is, leaning back against her cabin door, and slowly slides down it, one knee hugged to her chest. "Aren't you?"

He shakes his head. "I was, at first. But only a little. Your goddess… I'm not sure I can explain just how. But she's helped me sort myself out, you see. I get it now."

Her brows furrow a bit in confusion. "Get it? Get what? I'm not sure I understand."

He pauses, thinking. He wants this to come out right, needs it to make sense to her. "I've been confused. Ever since you brought Andrews and -," and Peter, but he decides that's not where he wants to go with this, "and I onto this ship, ever since our first conversation. You've had me confused. Perhaps on purpose, perhaps not, but you had me questioning everything I've ever been told about right and wrong."

"Perhaps more on purpose than you think." She says quietly, sounding tired.

He pauses again, to see if she has anything more to say, but she doesn't seem to. "I thought, for a while – was convinced – that you were wrong. Just because I wasn't willing to follow Andrews blindly didn't mean I was like you. Now – I don't know what I am. But I know what I'm not."

A smile just tugs at the corners of her lips. "And what aren't you, Riley Connelly?"

He pauses as he tries to settle on the right way to put it. "One of them." He decides. "I am not at all one of _them_, and never was."

She nods, as though this does indeed make perfect sense to her. "I've always known that. But it wasn't supposed to happen like this, you know. I needed a way to get to Andrews, and you – you made it easy. You made it fun. I could tell the moment I first saw you that you weren't like him, so it was simple."

"But you're no expert at this game. Not yet." She winces as he reads her, but he plows on. That goddess, she really had helped. Really had made it all clear to him, laid it all out so simple. "You broke the rules."

"I fell in love." Her eyes harden as she stares at the wall, glaring at nothing. "Not a mistake I intend to make ever again."

"I don't think you could, not so easily. Because that goddess of yours, she told me something, and that something is the biggest reason why I'm not angry."

She rolls her eyes now, looking annoyed. "This ought to be good." She sounds just tired again.

"She told me that I was right. You were a good woman. Well – still are, nothing is that simple. But you did something to yourself, when you sent me off like you did, knowing what could happen. There's a sliver of ice in your heart now, a dark little spot, not an easy thing to do when it was once so pure you were allowed the privilege of taking the waters of the Fountain along with you."

She looks up at him now, eyes wide in shock. "You – how could you possibly know about that?"

He shrugs. "Your goddess. She seemed to think I was owed it somehow, the knowledge that there were consequences for you. Nasty ones." He stands, crosses the room, kneels before her so she has no choice but to face him. "That's why I'm not angry, Emily." Just Emily, because he should've heard her from the beginning. She's not a lady, and he's come to realize they are far closer to being the same than he'll admit out loud at the moment. "Your punishment will take care of itself in the end, I think. That's how it works, for people like you."

She reaches out as though to cup his cheek, but hesitates at the last moment and gets to her feet instead. "People like me." She murmurs, and there's hurt behind her eyes, hurt and sadness and guilt. A moment passes, and she covers it with the ghost of a smirk, the Devil's daughter once again taking over. "And then there are people like Andrews. Which one of us do you suppose you're really more like? Because I seem to recall you telling me you didn't blame my men for wanting a little revenge, killing Peter." He doesn't know how to respond to that. It's a bothersome question, even more so than she's probably hoping, and her smirk grows at his obvious inability to give an answer. She steps closer to him, and his heart speeds up to spite him, his reactions to her unhindered by all that's happened. She leans up a bit as though asking for a kiss, and he's half tempted to give it to her, because to spite all she's done – or, perhaps, because of it – there's still something darkly irresistible about her. "Food for thought." She winks up at him, and just before their lips meet she pulls away to open the door. "Good night, Mister Connelly."

He shakes his head and finds himself wishing he could get inside hers the way she seems to be inside everyone else's from the start. "Good night, Captain." He replies, calm and steady, and leaves just the same.

* * *

><p>His last words echo hollowly through the cabin. Emily's smirk fades as she closes the door, her shoulders slumping, her stomach twisting itself in knots. She's not sure she quite understands what the deal is, here. Yes, what she did to Riley was horrid, but he wasn't meant to remember, and… He'd lived. Why is she being punished so for what didn't happen?<p>

People like her. The way he'd said it. She'd accused him of being more like her than he thought, but was it the other way around? Had _she_ been a bit more like _him_ until that moment she decided to throw him to the wolves? She thinks that maybe, as per usual, she hadn't quite understood what she was dealing with to the fullest extent with this whole 'purest heart' – thing. Probably she still doesn't. Her first thought is to ask her goddess… But she refuses. She doesn't need Calypso, she decides, or any of the other gods the goddess constantly makes vague reference to. Not if all they're going to do is deprive her of sleep in the process of giving her cryptic orders that could very well lead to her being hurt in some way shape or form. That's got tiring right quick. She's not much used to taking orders anymore, anyway. She's found she rather more likes being the one giving them out.

Riley's words stay with her, though. _Your punishment will take care of itself. That's how it works for people like you._ People like her. She scoffs even though he's no longer around to see it. _People like me are the ones having all the fun, anyway_. That's petty of her, but she doesn't have it in her to care.

(She's learning to pretend better all the time, but some part of her is really so sick with guilt that she thinks Riley is probably right – and that if he is, she'll deserve whatever she gets.)

* * *

><p>"There you are!" Emily's voice just carries over the raucous shouts and laughter of the men and women around him.<p>

He'd ducked into the overfull tavern thinking it to be the most likely place he'd find her, but it had taken him just moments to realize this was possibly the very last place he wanted to be. Which is to say, Alex was just on his way right back out. With little time to really deliberate, he makes the split decision to pretend he hadn't heard Emily and keeps walking. If she's really been hoping to see him, as her exclamation suggested, she'll follow. He makes his way back down the street at a leisurely pace, no real destination in mind now. He's nowhere else to go except back to the ship. Actually, he decides as he passes up the brothel Ruby calls home and several other strumpets try to wave him down, the ship is starting to sound like an alright option anyway. He's halfway back to the docks when he finally comes to the conclusion that Emily probably hadn't been all that eager to see him after all. Still cross with him, maybe? Ah well. Let her forget him and enjoy herself for a night, then.

"Alex?" She sounds questioning this time, but with what he'd just been thinking, her voice is a pleasant surprise.

He glances over at her as she comes up to walk alongside him. It's an even more pleasant surprise when she loops an arm through his, laying her head on his shoulder. He pauses, looking down at her, and she meets his eyes with her big, pretty brown orbs, softened with affection. He presses a kiss to her forehead, and they start walking again.

They reach the docks, coming to a halt at the end of the deserted stretch where the _Queen _is resting. Emily hops up to sit on a barrel, bouncy and playful, in a good mood apparently. She reaches out to pull him closer by his vest, leaning forward.

He brushes a stray strand of her dark brown waves back behind her ear, but holds off on the kiss she's silently asking for, causing her brows to furrow in confusion. He, however, is holding back a smile. "Where's that brother of yers?"

A pause, and then her eyes dance with amusement. "With my father."

"And where's he?"

"Busy keeping an eye on my brother." She replies, as though that should be obvious.

"Nothing Jo'll be coming to grab you for?"

"No, I believe she was rather busy with a deck of cards and a table full of drunks with too much money to waste. Cleaning them right out, too. Think I taught her a little too well." She winks, leaning in again. "I am, if you can believe it, all yours."

"Mmmm, finally." He smiles before covering her plump, kissable lips with his own. He expects she'll taste and smell of the rum she must have indulged in by now – but she doesn't. She smells only of the sea and that scent that belongs solely to her, and tastes of sweet apples. Long, arms snake up to rest around his neck as he slides his hand down to rest on her waist, and they stay that way long enough, kissing deep enough, that it would be grounds for arrest being that they are right out in the open – if they weren't on Tortuga, that is. Since they are, anyone passing through their general vicinity probably doesn't even glance in their direction.

He's the one to break it, finally coming up for air, still half expecting someone to interrupt them at any moment.

She rests her forehead against his. "Let's go to my cabin."

He wants to. But it doesn't feel right anymore, this thing they have. It's too carefree. Not proper, even he thinks, maybe, by pirate standards. He wants _serious_. He thinks of the conversation he'd had with Emily's father, about wanting to marry her, and he doesn't think she'll agree. Almost knows she won't. "Marry me." The words push past his lips anyway.

If she's surprised, she hides it well. Her reply comes snappy, but holds no venom. "No."

"Why not?"

"Why should I?"

"Because that's what people do on the occasion they find love." A pause, he pulls back to meet her eyes.  
>"We are in love? Both of us?"<p>

"Yes." There's no hesitation there anymore. "Yes, very much so, we are. But do I honestly look like anyone's wife?"

"Oh, come on, that's a stupid question."

"We fight more than we do anything else."

"You like arguing, though. And I think ye're rather pretty when ye're angry."

"You couldn't run away. If we were to go through the trouble…I'd never let you go."

"If we were to go through the trouble," he cups her cheek, "I'd be draggin ye along with me no matter where I went."

"Alex. The _Queen_." She shakes her head, pulling his hand away to hold it in her own. "I wonder sometimes if you realize just what you'd be asking me to give up."

He meets her eyes; they look troubled now, and a little sad. "I'm sorry." He murmurs after a moment.

Surprise takes over her features. "You're sorry? What on Earth could you have to be sorry for?"

"I don't – fit in to this world, yer world. Not like you do. I did try. But I can't make myself."

Now she's worried, her eyes widening in something almost like panic. "Don't say things like that. I know things have been – just, off lately. I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry for a lot of things. But we can – I can – we'll set sail again soon." The over-confident pirate Peg has disappeared quite thoroughly now, but it brings him no satisfaction. "Find some trouble. A bit of honest pirating." She attempts a mischievous smirk.

He wishes he could make her understand. There's nothing about any of this that ever quite sat right with him. It was different when they were still children and the decisions weren't theirs. Now the choice is his, playing along is just too much; he can't make himself be happy here. The trouble is, he can't really ask her to leave with him. She has, in truth, far more to lose than he does. Either way, it would never work. And just like that, he makes his decision. Softening, he leans in to devour her lips with his own again. "Sounds good, love."

She relaxes some, slowly. "Really? Because – you worry me when you start talking like you have been."

"Really. No worries, I promise. Know what? That idea of yers sounds good to me after all." He leans down to scoop her up, right off the barrel, cradling her slender frame in strong arms. She lets out a rare, girlish squeal as he does. "Yer cabin it is. Lets just 'ope yer brother doesn't come askin for ye."

She's planting kisses on his neck already. "Mmm, I think he can live without me for one night, don't you?"

He smiles down at her, squeezing her a little tighter to his chest. "Aye. Just for one night."

* * *

><p>She knows something's still off. It's in the looks he gives her, the sadness just hinted at behind his eyes. It's in the way he's so gentle with her to start with. It's in the way he paces them, slow and deliberate. The way he explores her, the way he watches her reactions to his pleasuring. She doesn't know for certain what's going on in that head of his. But for once she doesn't contest him being in charge. She lets him do what he will, and returns the favor only when he allows it.<p>

They don't say another word to each other, and there's never a moment where they aren't connected in some way – warm lips trailing gentle kisses, hands caressing bare skin. They go on for some time like this, and when they finally collapse, still in each other's arms, thoroughly exhausted, Emily allows herself to pretend. Just for a moment, she allows herself the fantasy of this being as perfect as it feels. She imagines them on that farm Alex talked about, with cows and a coop full of chickens and the horses just waiting to be taken out for an early morning ride and a little one or two, sound asleep just in the next room.

Just for a moment, she plays pretend with him. Curled up warm and comfortable and very loved in his arms, she's sound asleep by the time that moment's up.

* * *

><p>It's only been a few hours at most when she wakes. She can tell because not only is it still quite dark, but she can hear the sounds of Tortuga in all its raucous nightly glory still in full swing. For a moment she's confused. What could have woken her? She shifts herself in bed, rolling over and reaching groggily for Alex…<p>

The other side of the bed is empty. Still warm, but empty. And now she knows. She knows what was off about him earlier, what he was thinking. She's good and awake now, and just in time too – she didn't hear her cabin door open, but she hears it shut quietly now. She scrambles to dress herself, stumbles out the door while trying to buckle the last strap of her brace, frantic. _Don't let him get too far, don't let him, don't let him…_ She bounds down the corridor, shoots up the steps, runs full tilt halfway across the deck – and freezes all at once.

He's still there. Standing with his back to her just at the gangplank, one hand resting on the rail beside him.

And the only thing she can feel is anger. The white hot, entirely irrational kind that he always claims to love her for. Her fists clench as she tries not to let that spill over into some display of her power. "You – you miserable…" She can't even find the words. "You were going to leave me just like that? No warning at all?"

He doesn't turn to her, but she can see him clutch the railing tighter, so tight his knuckles turn white. "I thought it'd be best that way. One last night together, no arguin or anythin."

"One last wonderful night just so you can leave me in the middle of it like I'm no better than _Ruby_ or _Adrienne_ or…"

"Please!" He bursts, glancing halfway back at her. "Please, don't – Emily, just don't."

She wants to burst into tears, but won't allow him to see her like that, not if he's really going to do this to her. "Why can't I hate you?" She startles herself by saying. "I mean, you – you're so _infuriating_ sometimes. We just don't seem to fit together quite right, but…"

"But ye love me all the same?"

"Just like you do me." She pauses, closes her eyes, takes a breath. "Look at me. Please?" He does. It takes him a moment, but he lets go of the rail and turns to her. She wants to go to him, but can't make her legs move. "I'll marry you. I'll do anything you like! Just stay with me." She shoots forward now, all at once, reaching for him. "Alex, please, I'm begging you, properly begging you. Just stay with me."

He flinches away from her touch. "Anything. Do you mean that? Even if anythin meant simply comin with me?"

Yes. She should say yes. It's easy, simple. She opens her mouth and tries to make the word leave it but no sound comes out. She glances around the ship, _her _ship, and her stomach twists itself in knots in a way that has her power once again trying to build because she wants to fix it. But magic can't fix everything. It certainly won't fix this. It's not that she doesn't want to say yes. It's that she knows it would never work out. She wouldn't be happy on that farm with him, she'd be pretending just like he'd been pretending here with her. And it won't help that she's almost certain she's not capable of giving him the children he might want. They'd both end up miserable for it in the end, and she doesn't want to do that to him. Maybe without her… she remembers the vision she'd seen, Alex so happy with that _other woman_.

Alex looks – tired. Hurt and weary. "S'alright. I knew the answer was no." She knows what he's thinking. He thinks she loves the ship more than him.

She looks away now, staring off into nothing because it's easier than seeing him hurt. "Where will you go?"

"Figure I'll hop on the first ship that'll take me to a more honest port and start from there. Gotta be plenty of honest captains that can make use of a man who's been crawlin over ships since 'e was just three and ten. And plenty of other places could use an extra pair of strong arms. I'll manage."

She nods. "Good luck. Really, Alex. I hope you find whatever it is you're looking for." She forces herself to look up at him again. "I hope you find happiness."

"I hope you can manage to keep yours." He answers, soft and just as sincere.

_I'm losing at least half of it right now_. But she doesn't say that out loud. She's a pirate. She's awful and selfish and manipulative but just this last time she's going to do the right thing and let go. "Write to me? You could send letters to the Good Goddess. I'll arrange something, make sure I get them."

"Of course." He replies, but she has a feeling it'll be a very long while before that happens, if it ever does.

They stare at each other for another long moment, and then she's shooting forward again and he's opening his arms and they're kissing, hungry and passionate, devouring each other's lips just one last time. She forces herself to pull away, and he looks hesitant but murmurs a 'goodbye, Emily,' and turns around, and she watches him walk away.

She stands for some time at the rail where he'd stood, just staring after him even though he's long since disappeared. In those moments, she decides two things for herself. The first is that she no longer wants to hear anyone else call her 'Emily'. It'll never sound the same as from his lips. The second is that Peg Leg Turner no longer gives a damn about the right thing.

She startles herself with that one, though only time will tell how true it is. For now, she decides that men are a pointless, oft infuriating annoyance. What she wants is rum, and her legs begin leading her to it without her needing to think it through. She follows his path off the ship, and that is quite the end of it.

* * *

><p>They linger in Tortuga far longer than Peg would usually allow them to. She's intending to head back for Shipwreck. After sending Andrews back off to his precious Admiral, it'll probably be best if they begin preparing for the possibility that the Admiral will start being more aggressive. Her idea is for Shipwreck to be the <em>Queen<em>'s home base if this happens, the thought being that perhaps the brethren court could be involved eventually out of necessity. She doesn't think Teague will object to this, it's a solid plan. At least, it would be if she still had Alex. But she doesn't. The idea of trying to explain to the old captain that his grandson has gone his own way, left them all behind, is intimidating enough. She doesn't like thinking it, but such a decision on Alex's end puts him dangerous close to being a traitor to his own kind, and although she doesn't blame him, many would. Having the only explanation as to _why _he'd made such a decision be that Peg herself had driven him off? That makes the prospect of explaining it somehow, sort of, maybe a little…

Terrifying, even if Teague is fond of her in his own way.

So, in Tortuga they stay. She's never been the most fond of the place, but finds that actually, if one knows how to navigate and not be noticed, it's the perfect place to be if hiding is your intent. And although she's come to not mind being the center of attention every now and then, she's also got quite good at not being noticed at all. Not that it's difficult. Tie her hair back in just the right fashion, wear a vest instead of her corset, bind what little bosom she has, and one would have to look very close indeed to even realize she's female. Lower her voice and walk with legs apart, making sure not to sway her hips, and no man has reason to look closer anyway.

It's a very useful talent, and one she's growing quite proud of. She goes on quite content in this manner for some time, guzzling rum with her men in the taverns when she wants company and hiding away with a book in a room at the Good Goddess when she does not. It's a wonder she doesn't find more trouble over the days that follow; as it is, the only thing to cause her any real grief is not a thing, but a person. Her father allows her just two days before voicing his apparently firm though decidedly hypocritical opinion that crawling into a bottle will get her exactly nowhere and as such 'you should either go after the boy or bloody well be a better pirate than this and get over him'. She can't manage to conjure too much venom, but tells him, in so many words, to _bugger off_.

It takes her another week to come to the grudging realization that he's probably right, because no amount of drink can keep Alex off her mind for too long anyway.

It takes her another four days after that to sober up enough that she again notes how light her coin purse is growing, and it is then that she decides it's just time.

* * *

><p>"Captain Turner."<p>

Peg freezes at the sound of his voice, eyes closing as she takes a breath. She's not sure she has it in her to have a talk with him again, but she forces herself to turn at least half way around and acknowledge him. "Mister Connelly. Should you not have somewhere else to be by now? I could've sworn I took care of that." She continues on down the dock, heading for the _Queen_. They're getting ready to set sail; she hopes to have left Tortuga within the hour, and had thought he'd be gone already.

He comes up to keep pace alongside her. "You did. I should – do have somewhere else to…"

She glances at him, brows furrowed a bit. "Well? Captain Kristoff's a good man. He'll take you wherever you need to go."

"I'm sure he would, but…"

"And you have your Sarah to get back to. I'm sure you miss her and your mother."

"Oh, I do." He grabs her arm firmly, stopping her. "And I thank you for this. Truly."

She finally allows herself to face him. "I'm sending Andrews scurrying back to the Admiral, but I wouldn't worry about that. He'll think you're still with me. Get yourself home and keep your nose in your own business, you should be safe enough."

"Well, perhaps, but…"

Peg is getting impatient. "By the old gods, will you just spit it out?"

"It's not good enough. 'Safe enough' just…isn't _good enough._" He pulls out a small coin purse. "You left this."

"I figured it was the least I could do." She replies. She'd set the contents of the purse aside some weeks ago; it's a handful of the gold doubloons she'd tempted him with early on.

"I was going to just take it and leave. I was. But I think…that would be selfish of me. I know Captain Andrews. He won't just forget, and if I go home and make one wrong move…" He looks down, staring at the coin purse. "Sarah and my mother could pay for it."

"Riley. You understand that's not a problem easily fixed?"

He nods. "All too well."

"I suppose you're thinking to stay on with me."

"I'm not sure I have much choice."

"I don't know where we'll be going after we take care of Andrews. Shipwreck again, probably, but after that, who knows? If you come with us, it won't just be some half imagined vendetta Andrews has against you. He'll have legitimate reason to brand you a pirate." He looks a touch conflicted. She plows on. "The question here is, whose side are you on?"

There's a pause. "I didn't tell you, did I? That there was more than one reason why I'm not angry with you." She only shakes her head, half curious now. He goes on. "It's because I realized – if I'd had you and Sarah side by side. If I'd been faced with the choices you had, I can't say I wouldn't have done just what you did."

"Don't." She says sharply and with a sudden vehemence. "Riley, I was wrong, I was…" Her fists clench as she grows frustrated with herself. "I was playing games because that's what I do. Don't let me do that to you. Go home and take care of your mother like a good little boy."

"I _can't_." He bursts. "Maybe it's something you've done to me, or maybe I've just…started to figure myself out finally. I don't know whose side I'm on anymore, Emily, I just know I can't risk going home, and I'm not sure they'd recognize me if I did."

She stops now, studies him. There's a hard look in his eyes as he meets hers steadily, and his voice hasn't cracked or gone wobbly once throughout their conversation. He's starting to sound less a boy and more a man. It seems cruelly ironic, somehow. Alex was supposed to have been the bad boy, the pirate, and yet he's run off to make an honest man of himself whilst sweet Riley doesn't trust himself to go home anymore. Peg heaves a heavy sigh, then throws her shoulders back. "Right then, Mister Connelly. We cast off within the hour, I'd suggest you go inform Cap'n Kristoff of your decision."

He straightens. "Aye, Cap'n." He turns half way, but pauses again, a hint of mischief behind his eyes as he glances down at the coin purse still in his hands. "I do hope you weren't expecting to get this back."

She places a hand on her hip, shaking her head. "You're starting to sound a pirate. What did I tell you about behaving?" She tries for playful. He offers her a ghost of a smile. "Send it to your mother." She tells him.

He nods, tucking it away again, and then is off.

* * *

><p>"The holds bursting with rum, Andrews is starting to get fussy, and the men are getting just as anxious as you to find some trouble." Jo goes down the list as she follows Peg across the deck of the <em>Queen<em> the morning it's finally decided they should cast off. "I'd say we're about ready to be off."

There's hesitation in the older woman's voice, but Peg ignores it. "Good. It is about time I suppose." She replies, making her way up to the helm. "Weigh anchor, hoist the sails, you know how it goes, I want Andrews out of my hair already."

Jo follows her all the way up to the wheel. "Aye, Cap'n, but…"

Peg glances at her with an annoyed huff. "What is it, Jo?"

Glancing around a bit, Jo leans in, lowering her voice. "It's just, Alex. It's possible it took him some time to find another ship to take him on, we could…with that compass…"

Peg takes the wheel and doesn't answer for a long moment, thinking of said compass. This very idea has been tempting her on and off for the past two weeks, which is why she's had the compass itself locked away in her desk. "No." She says, far more resolute than she feels. "He's gone, Jo. Where to is none of my business anymore. Where we're going, that's what I'm worried about, so hop to it, will you?"

Sighing, the older woman shakes her head. "Aye, Cap'n."

* * *

><p><em><strong>So, yeah, no more Alex again. This was necessary, I promise I do have a plot still! He'll be back. <strong>_

_**In answer again to my last reviewer, I was going to have Emily have to choose between Riley and Alex, but when I decided Alex would have to leave for plot purposes I thought it would be more fun to have Riley stay as an interesting contrast. **__**As for Will and Jade, Jade did die. She was on a ship crossing to England with her son, Emily's brother, and the ship was sunk. Elizabeth (being her very evil, snaky self) caught them both, but Joshy was still alive, so Jade agreed to serve in some capacity on the **_**Dutchman**_** as long as Elizabeth let Joshy go. It was all essentially explained in chapter 37, in the vision Emily has. The idea now is that Elizabeth (now being herself again) is going to release Jade and let her cross over to wherever the dead go.**_

**_Thanks for reading, everyone. :)_**


	68. Begin Again

"Jade Marion Reid."

Elizabeth turns a curious eye on the woman next to her. Jade is standing at the rail, arms crossed and shoulders hunched as she stares out into the misty wall that creates a thin veil between the place where the dead go to find peace and the rest of World's End.

"My name." The auburn haired woman elaborates. "Jade Marion Reid. Marion was meant to be it. But green eyes weren't common on either my mother's side or my father's, and I was born with them. So Jade I am."

"It should have been Turner, too." Elizabeth replies softly.

Jade glances at her. "Jade Marion Reid-Turner." She tests it out, and shakes her head. "I wished for it. I asked him. I wanted it for my son, tried to convince Will it would be only fair to Joshy, but…"

"He never denied the boy. Did he?"

"No. But he may as well have, refusing to make me his wife."

Elizabeth nods in understanding. "Perhaps it was for the best." She turns to stare out on the greyish expanse of water before them. "Pirates make for lousy husbands, I'm afraid."

"Pirates, I've found, aren't awful good for anything other than being the drunken scoundrels that they are." Jade snaps back, bitter. A pause, and she heaves a heavy, tired sigh. "But then, I wasn't much better at times. It's no wonder the children ended up as they did."

"Where you're going… it's not where the bad ones go." Elizabeth continues to stare ahead and keeps her voice level even as the hissing monster still pacing within her bristles. "Whether you'll face judgment for what sins you have committed, I cannot say, but you're intentions must have been pure enough. The gods have decided to grant you peace in the end. They don't do that for everyone." As of this moment, they wouldn't think of doing it for Elizabeth.

Jade looks over and seems to study her a moment. Then she just nods.

Elizabeth sends her off in a row boat, watching in silence as the other woman becomes shrouded in the wall of mist and disappears. Glancing down at the waters below her, wondering if her goddess has any pull here in this world between worlds, she speaks softly. "Well, there's one small mess cleaned up. It'll be a thousand more before I redeem myself, I imagine."

'_A thousand more, a thousand years to work with.'_ Calypso replies in whispers that seem to surround Elizabeth.

"Hmm. How comforting."

'_A thousand years, but never alone, my Lizzie.' _The whispers seem to caress her now, like the feather light touch of her goddess.

Elizabeth lets out a breath. "No." She closes her eyes as she can almost feel her goddess pressing a kiss to her temple, and the monster within her calms once more. "Never alone again."

* * *

><p>Freedom. He almost can't believe how close he is to it. He can see the beach from here, the harbor with all its ships silhouetted in the light of the sun, which has just sunk beneath the horizon. He wants that freedom so badly he actually fidgets where he's seated in the middle of the long boat between the older lady pirate and another of Turner's crew, a large, brutish African with an assortment of strange tattoos adorning his skin. The trouble is, even once he sets foot on land, he still won't be very free at all. He'd underestimated Turner, and it had lost him his ship and quite possibly all but one of his crew. Except, really, he'd lost even Connelly; with the way Turner had been working him, it's likely the boy's as much a pirate as she and the rest of her crew by now.<p>

Timothy Andrews left with a simple mission: deliver the letter's to Turner, be as diplomatic as possible in doing so. He's returning with less than nothing to show for it. This doesn't bode well for him. He supposes he'll just go ahead and resign his commission, before the Admiral suggests it for him. Perhaps he'll be allowed to keep what very little dignity he may still have left.

Trying to allow his mind to stray from such unpleasant thoughts, he takes to studying the woman before him. She's not much to look at in comparison to her captain, is shorter and sturdier and wears men's clothing, just oversized enough to hide feminine curves. She must have been quite a beauty once, he thinks, with those full black curls and pretty hazel eyes. That's not to say some of this beauty isn't still very evident, but her features have been weathered by a few years at sea, at the least. He suspects she was no English lily to begin with, however. Though her accent hints at London, her complexion and an attitude feisty enough to rival Turner's hints at something else.

"Is it your mother or your father?" He asks, his thoughts swimming their way out past his lips without his permission. The question is entirely impertinent, but with it in mind that he's no longer fit to hold rank in his Majesty's Navy, he can't bring himself to care so much.

The woman's brows furrow, a confused scowl contorting her features. "Excuse me?"

"You're complexion hints at Latin blood, particularly combined with those raven curls. I am curious, is it your mother or your father who contributed these features?"

She eyes him with hardened hazel eyes, perhaps trying to figure him out. After a moment, she shrugs, careless. "My mother was from Spain."

He nods. "She must have been a beautiful woman – forgive me. I should have better control of my tongue."

She raises a brow at him. "Perhaps, but I'm hardly complaining if you meant to imply that I take after her."

"That was the idea." He replies, a little softer. "Anyway, I only ask because I knew a woman not long ago, another raven haired Latin beauty. She was almost my wife. You remind me of her, a little."

"Almost your wife?" Vague curiosity colors the tone of the woman across from him now.

He's not sure why he just told her that. But then, this is the closest he's come to friendly contact with anyone else in a number of days, so any kind of conversation is welcome. "Almost." He says, softer. "She was – taken from me." By pirates, in fact, but he's too weary now to conjure any venom to put behind his words.

"'Taken from you'. You're not talking like she's passed on." A pause, he doesn't answer, though a bit of a scowl makes its way onto his face. The lady pirate nods. "She left, then."

He straightens up, clearing his throat. "I might well be better off, if I'm terribly honest. She didn't much like who she had to thank for how well I kept her."

"Enough that she chose to run off instead of put up with you? Smart girl."

"Hm. She was. That's what made her running off so much a surprise."

The lady pirate shakes her head before peering around Andrews to the man behind him. "This is far enough." She takes out a knife and reaches forward to cut the ropes binding Andrew's wrists.

Freedom. He's so, so, _so _very close… "You're accent. It's smoother than that any pirate I've met before, I'd be quite willing to bet you didn't start out as one. What are you doing out here, taking orders from the likes of Turner?"

She hesitates, a look that is halfway between a scowl and a grimace contorting her features. The boat beneath them begins rocking on waters that are choppier than they were not long ago, and she glances skyward. "Winds are changing." She finally replies, gruffer than before. "Storms brewing, I'll wager. You'd best get moving if you want to make it to shore."

She's not wrong, but he wants an answer. "What's your name?" He asks, a little more tentative.

"Jo Gibbs." She replies, wary, but she obviously doesn't believe she has anything to lose by giving him this.

He studies her. "Short for Josephine, I would imagine. Beautiful name, that, and not the most common." She hesitates, nods once. "Tell me, Miss Gibbs. Does the name 'Nathaniel Archer' mean anything to you?" Ah, he's hit a nerve. All at once her hazel eyes harden, dangerous this time, and before he knows it there's a pistol leveled at his head. "Is that a yes?" He asks, brazen.

"That was my husband's name, but you'll know all about that I expect."

"He was a friend."

"He was a cruel, abusive bastard, as were most of the men he called 'friends', and since I now know they were all working for the Admiral…"

"He spoke of you often. If what he said was true, you won't shoot me." He goes rigid when she cocks the pistol.

"The woman he knew wouldn't have. I'm telling you to get moving before I decide to paint this here boat a lovely shade of red."

He glances over her shoulder, eyeing up the shore in the distance behind her. Sweet, sweet freedom is just too close. "Very well, then. I look forward to seeing you again, Missus Archer." It's a promise, and with it, he leaves her…just in time, too. The lady pirate wasn't kidding it seems; he hears the pistol fire just before he hits the water.

* * *

><p>Night has fallen, the stars blinking into existence one by one. A sea salt breeze sweeps across the room, growing stronger, and lamps mounted on stone walls begin to flicker dangerously. At the far end of the room, the warm, humid air sweeps across a large desk, stirring papers and putting out a lone candle. The room's sole occupant sets down the paper in his hand and pushes away from the desk, getting to his feet and glaring at the window which someone had thought to leave open for him. It is hurricane season here, and the storms that brew are sudden and frequent, if not all disastrous. It's enough to leave one quite homesick for England. Striding across the room, having it in mind to shut the offending window, he pauses as he looks out upon the vast, dark expanse of blue giving way to a starry horizon. As sharp green eyes search the increasingly choppy waters, he thinks he can just make out the silhouette of a ship making its way back out to open sea…<p>

Footsteps echo through the corridor leading to the study, entering the room in urgency. "Admiral, sir." A younger voice addresses the man at the window.

The Admiral turns, hands clasped behind his back. "Lieutenant."

"You've a visitor, sir." The young man pauses.

"At this hour?" The Admiral shakes his head, strolling back over to his desk. "It can wait until morning, I am sure."

"…an especially _eager_ visitor, sir." The lieutenant goes on, somewhat hesitant. "He was found at the beach, washed ashore, exhausted but he insisted upon seeing you immediately when he learned you were here. He says you will want to see him, sir."

Intrigued at the very least, the Admiral nods. "Very well, then. Send him in."

The lieutenant disappears, and for a moment the Admiral is again left in silence. He takes the moment to straighten his desk back out and relight the candle, and then waits somewhat impatiently. He had, in fact, been intending to retire for the night quite soon, and hopes this 'eager visitor' will be worth his trouble.

He's not disappointed.

Heavier footfalls sound down the corridor, and a tall, broad shouldered man appears, hovering in the doorway. He looks every bit the tattered castaway; is wearing the stained and worn remnants of a Navy uniform, sans his hat and wig, and is bearded with hair grown longer than he tends to keep it. He looks exhausted, but there's an edge of determination there as well, and the Admiral waves him forward emphatically.

"Captain Timothy Andrews, as I live and breathe! Please, do come in. Dear Lord, I had thought you quite lost to the sea after hearing of your ships ill fate!"

"Not much a Captain any longer, I'm afraid, sir." Timothy Andrews replies tightly, coming to stand before the Admiral with hands clasped neatly behind his back, which goes ramrod straight. "I intend to hand in my resignation as soon as I can write it up, but sir, first I've much to tell you about just where I have been."

"Resignation?" The Admiral is, quite genuinely, shocked. "Best not to be too hasty now, Mister Andrews. Tell me what you must first, and then we will discuss what's to be done with you. Lieutenant!" He calls for the young man who had played messenger earlier.

He appears promptly. "Sir?"

"Down to the kitchens with you, wake whoever's in charge down there. I should think the Captain here could do with a cup of tea at the least."

"Aye, sir." The Lieutenant disappears again.

Crossing the room to close the door, the Admiral turns back to the man who had been his most trusted friend. "Sit. You look a fright."

Andrews relaxes a fraction, glancing down at himself as though only just realizing what a state he is in. Apparently too tired to argue, he collapses into the chair before the desk and just next to him. "Forgive me. These past months have been – long and trying."

"Indeed, it would appear so. Where have you been, then, that you have so much to explain?"

"Why, sir, can you not guess? My ship was sunk by none other than _Captain _Peg Leg Turner. I have been a prisoner on her ship all the long weeks since."

"Prisoner. On the _Sea's Queen_?" The Admiral cannot help the urgency that seeps into his tone. "In such a case, I would be only too pleased to hear what it is you've found out, but," a pause as he comes to sit next to Andrews, "tell me first, for this I must know now. Has she, to your knowledge, come to discover any new gifts granted her by this goddess she worships so faithfully?"

Andrews looks perplexed a moment, but realization dawns all too soon. "Indeed I believe she has, if I am not mistaken as to what you are referring, sir. From what I have heard and what little I've seen, she is becoming quite the force to be reckoned with. Though, it does not seem she is well in control of these gifts."

"No, no, I don't imagine she will be for some time yet, but that is of little consequence. I had begun to worry she would not…" A pause, the Admiral gets to his feet, circles around to stand behind his desk, leans forward and slams his hands down upon it. "Yes! Oh, yes."

"Sir?" Andrews questions, hesitant.

There's a knock at the door. The Lieutenant peers into the room, and with a wave from the Admiral a short, plump older woman makes her way in, carrying a silver tray laden with cups and a pot of tea, along with milk and sugar and biscuits. "Here you are, sir. Had a feeling about tonight, I did. Tea was already brewing." She sets the tray down on the desk just before Andrews, whom she glances at with eyes that turn wide and fretful. The Admiral waves her off before she can begin fixing the tea for them, and she scurries back out all too eagerly.

Andrews seems unperturbed by the maid's reaction to him. In fact, he begins fixing himself a cup of tea with haste, snatching the biscuits up to be eaten unceremoniously, easily forgetting himself, but the Admiral doesn't begrudge him this. He allows the other man a moment to enjoy the small luxuries.

"Andrews, my good man." He says, regaining his own composure after the earlier outburst he'd allowed himself. "Do you realize what this means?"

Andrews sets his teacup aside, empty already, unabashed. "No, sir, I'm afraid I don't."

"It means everything will go just as I planned! We may have to be patient still for a while yet. Power such as that which she has just discovered is not easily controlled, and we cannot have her while she is so volatile as she must be now, but I promise you, we _will _have her."

"We?" Andrews shakes his head. "Sir, I tell you, once you hear my full account –"

"Nonsense." The Admiral cuts him off firmly. "I've no doubt you acted as well as any man could have under the circumstances, and no one now knows Turner so well as you do, I am sure. I'll not here another word of you resigning."

Straightening some, Andrews nods stiffly. "Aye, sir. What comes next, then?"

Andrews crosses the room, back to the window, staring out to where the ship had been earlier. The _Sea's Queen_, he suspects it was now. It should frustrate him, how close she was, but he remains unbothered. As things stand now, it's possible the Captain will be of little use to him. "For now, I'm afraid, we shall have to continue on as we have been. She'll be far too volatile, as I said, and she'll be on her guard. I'll need her more comfortable, less ready for me, if my plan is to work."

"How much longer can this plan of yours wait, Admiral?"

The Admiral's eyes harden as he continues to stare out to sea and thinks of the driving force behind all his actions. "As long as it takes."

_Because patience is key, as you taught me James, my dear brother, and I shall only grow stronger in the meanwhile. We will have her._

_And then we will have all their heads, once and for all._

* * *

><p>"What's our heading now, then, Cap'n?" Jo, stationed at the helm and staring ahead into the brewing storm.<p>

Emily glances down at the compass in her hands. For a moment she just fiddles with it, trying to tell herself what she wants is whatever will put a few coins back in her pocket. She flips it open – and grimaces. It seems to be pointing her in the same direction. It's _always _pointing her in the same direction. She knows because she maps it out every now and then with some of the charts in her cabin. There are many things she wants. Some of them are things she could obtain with relative ease. But the one thing she wants most is now so far out of her reach…

"Cap'n?" Jo questions, glancing down at the compass.

Emily shuts it again and heaves a sigh. Maybe it's not pointing her to _him_, maybe she's managed to change her own mind, but she doubts it enough not to trust the stupid thing. "Through this storm." She answers finally, shooing Jo away to take the helm herself. "And then to Shipwreck. Got some questions I think Ana might be able to answer."

"That'll mean explaining to ole Captain Teague…"

"That Alex met some other little strumpet and not only conjured up but executed a plan to run off, a plan which had nothing whatsoever to do with little ole me?" Peg replies, smooth as ever. "Because just look at me, why would it have? Everyone knows by now; Alex Sparrow could get his hands on the prettiest, richest girl in the world and still not be satisfied for long, no different than Uncle."

Jo shakes her head, rolling her eyes with fond exasperation. "Aye then, Shipwreck it is." And with this she stalks off.

Peg grips the helm tighter as the waters beneath them grown choppy, the wind picking up. Lightning flashes, and she smiles defiantly, deciding it's all Alex's loss, really. The rains start pouring down, and she hums the familiar tune. "…a pirate's life for me."

~-~-~-~  
><em>Weeks Later, Port Royal<br>_~-~-~-~

"Mister Teague!"

Alex closes his eyes and just manages to hold back a grimace as the all too familiar voice of the old crone he's been working for screeches his name. He's lost count of how many times she's called for him since he came in early this morning, whether it be for some manner of heavy lifting, or to dart about helping customers in the front of the shop as the old woman kept busy in the large kitchens. He could swear he's never met a woman so bossy – well. Not counting _her, _because _she _is a different matter entirely and one he's not going to think about just at the moment because… "Aye, ma'am!" He calls out, respectful, cutting short his own thoughts as he slips into the next room to face his employer.

"I'm short several measures of both flour _and _sugar, and I've still got at least three dozen of those pastries to fix for the ball up at the new mansion." She goes on, sounding harried as she continues mixing up whatever's in the bowl held firm in her one arm. "I'm not half flattered the lady liked them so much," she goes on, muttering, "but she could've given me a bit more warning, you know."

He's already crossed back into the stores front room and is slipping on the plain coat and hat he'd acquired, hasty and cheap, when the old woman had agreed to hire him. _"Can't have any boy of mine looking like a ragamuffin. This is Port Royal, and we've got the Admiral himself to impress these days."_

"Another sack of flour and sugar each, I'm on it, ma'am." He calls back.

"Make it two each, I can afford it for what their paying me up at that mansion and it always best to be prepared."

That'll make for quite a trek back through town on Alex's part, but then, that's how he'd got the job. His lean, tough frame had provided the old woman with just the muscle she'd been lacking since her son 'ran off to marry'. "Aye, ma'am." He scolds himself, he's not on a ship anymore, it should probably be '_yes_, ma'am', but the old woman doesn't seem to mind.

"And Alex!" She calls again, this time peering into the stores front room, stopping him just as his he's opened the door. "Make it back within half an hour and you can have the rest of the evening off. Make it back in half _that_ time, I'll send you off with a few extra shillings for good measure." She winks.

He smiles back, genuine. She's bossy, but not above making sure he gets what he's earned in return. "Aye, ma'am." And he hurries out the door.

.

Fifteen minutes may have been optimistic. It seems especially hot today somehow, even with the sun beginning its daily decent down through the sparsely clouded blue sky. With all four sacks resting on his shoulder, weaving his way back through town is proving a bit of a challenge. He can't be sure of how much time has passed, but it sure feels like forever, and those extra shillings would be enough to buy him a far more decent meal than what he's been scrounging up as of late.

He's carried rum barrels far heavier than all the small sacks on his shoulder, he ought to be able… he picks up the pace to a light jog, darting through the towns crowded shopping district. Why is it so crowded this evening? Shouldn't all these rich folks be getting ready for that high toned and fancy to-do at the…

Well, no, best not to tempt fate by thinking of that either. Alex has been lucky – he'd cleaned himself up as best he could, and with the addition of clothes more befitting a proper landlubber than a pirate's son, no one had glanced twice at him. But he can't forget that it's the Admiral himself currently residing in that pretty, newly-refurbished mansion atop the hill.

Then again, it's entirely possible that Alex is just – nobody. Not a threat unless in the company of Peg Leg Turner, in all her increasingly-infamous glory.

Blast and bugger it! He's _not _going to think about her!

A woman's soft scream pulls him back to reality, just before he topples to the ground and the sacks along with him. More than a little dazed, the wind thoroughly knocked out of him, it takes him a very long moment to process what's just happened. There's a crowd quickly gathering, some thinking to ask if he's quite alright, most hovering over the cream colored figure across from him…

Oh. "Oh, bugger!" He mutters aloud this time, the word slipping past his lips without him intending them to. Thankfully, no one's paying attention to him. He shoots to his feet with all haste and reaches out a hand to the slight, long haired figure they are fussing over. "I'm so sorry, miss, please forgive me, miss, I wasn't – I didn't – are ye alright?" A small, delicate hand takes the one he's offering her and she stands, looking up at him with an expression that hints at anger and indignation – but then she freezes, as does he. Sky blue eyes gaze up into chocolate brown ones, and he finds he can't look away.

Someone nearby clears their throat; Alex tears his eyes away to find it's the old woman, hands planted on her hips, one eyebrow raised at him. Somehow, he _had _made it all the way back to the bakery, but at the moment those extra shillings are the last thing on his mind.

The girl makes a noise, a soft mew, and he turns back to her only to find that her flawless, porcelain cheeks have flushed a most becoming shade of red. His first instinct is to drop her hand, as he's hardly worthy to even be within ten feet of so exquisite a creature as the one stood before him…but he's not a boy, or a bumbling whelp. He keeps her hand, and bows a bit in respect, waiting for her to take it back. "Miss. My sincerest apologies." He offers again, more collected this time.

She takes her hand back and holds her chin high as she responds. "I'm sure you had reason for rushing so, but might I suggest you watch where you are going on a street so busy?"

"And miss the chance at takin the 'and o' so lovely an English lily?" He replies softly, just the hint of that Sparrow smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, because old habits die very, very, bloody _obnoxiously _hard.

To his relief, there's a smile lighting up her eyes now. "If you've always a remark like that on the tip of your tongue, I'd suppose you could have many a woman lining up for your attentions, and that way would prove much more pleasant for all involved, I am sure."

"True enough." The smirk grows a bit, but he tempers it as an older lady comes up beside the girl before him.

"Imogene? You've soiled your dress, what on earth have you been up to?"

The girl, Imogene, eyes Alex up discreetly, leaving him to sweat a moment perhaps? "Oh, it's alright mother. I've to go home and change for this evening, anyway."

Alex lets out a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.

The older woman is eyeing Alex up now even as she answers her daughter. "Indeed. We really must be going, actually." She moves on, giving Alex a wide birth as she goes around him.

Imogene hesitates, though. "May I have a name, sir?"

"Alex – Alexander Teague." He replies, remembering to use the name he'd given the old woman, because the name 'Sparrow' is still a little too well known for him to keep using it. Particularly in these parts.

"Alexander Teague." She tests the name out, as though to commit it to memory. She graces him with a smile, and gives him a small curtsy. "Imogene Ellsworth. Perhaps I shall see you again."

"One might even 'ope under circumstances a might more pleasant." He replies, seamless.

"Come, now, Imogene!" Her mother's voice calls out, scolding.

"Good day, Mister Teague." Imogene leaves him with, softly, slipping past him to follow her mother.

The sacks laying at his feet now entirely forgotten, he turns to stare after her with an expression so awestruck, Emily would have given him a slap were she here. "Good day." He murmurs in return. And with that turns a whole new chapter in the life of Alex Sparrow.

* * *

><p><em><strong>I'm not sure I've really made this clear in-story so far, although I tried to make the age differences obvious. So I'll go ahead and point some things out. Emily we know is now 19, and Alex has a good year on her. Then I have Adrienne, who we're going to see some more of in the coming chapters; she's about 25. Then there's Jo, who's just over 30. <strong>_

_**I have the Admiral as having been the second youngest of that family's siblings, keeping in mind there are nine of them, and I'm sure I don't need to spell it out by now who his brother was. James would've been the eldest. **_

_**With that said, thanks for reading. :)**_


	69. Meanwhile 1: Strange Escapes

She doesn't even know where she is. She could start coming up with a plan, if she at least had a clue where she is. The stone walls and the way it's set up, a number of cells set along the back wall extending left and right for as far as she can see, suggests it's a fort she's in. And they're still in the Caribbean; she can feel that in the air, so that's good. But where, where, where? The trouble is, she can't remember. Anything before waking up in this cell is a blank. She's missing at least a few days' worth of memories. Her first thought upon waking was that she'd been drunk, because the back of her skull feels like someone tried to split it right open with a hammer and that usually means hangover, but she's already nixed that theory. She hasn't actually allowed herself to indulge to such an extent since the weeks after Alex ran off.

And she remembers that well enough. And the months following, all nine of them, so the lost memory thing is very short term. Which would be far more a comfort, except that still leaves her stuck behind bars in a fort whose exact location is still unknown to her. Oh, and the fact that there's an entire cell full of men just next to her, reaching out and begging for her to come closer isn't doing much to improve her mood either.

They're a rather curious bunch, come to think of it. They don't look like the scraggly bunch of drunks and beggars that can typically be found in any town. These men, though certainly a scruffy, unsavory lot, are strapping and strong and would be quite a threat if not for the bars separating them and her. Interesting.

Then again, they also don't know who she is. But that's at least partly because she's wearing a dress – proper, with stays and all, though it's worn in places. In fact, she's even got a chemise on beneath it, and stockings. And her hair, it's resting free about her shoulders, relatively clean. Which is downright disturbing, because she can't remember having gone about that task. Her brows furrow as it occurs to her she doesn't even know where she would have acquired such a rig as the one she's wearing, either. The last thing she remembers is being at sea, and there was something about a ship chasing them…

Anyway, she doesn't look at all herself. And her necklace is missing, which is what most worries her, for reasons beyond any obvious material ones.

She glares daggers at the men still beckoning to her, though this does her little good, and makes herself comfortable at the farthest end of the cell away from them. If only she had her sword… Sighing, she leans her head back against the wall and closes her eyes, willing the pounding in her head to cease.

She isn't left like this for long. There's a commotion of some kind, perhaps the sound of a heavy door being opened on squeaky hinges. Thinking it could be a guard or whoever's had her locked up, she presses herself further back into the corner, curling in on herself a bit, trying to appear frightened. When in doubt, she's learned, her best bet is usually to act like the naïve little damsel. It works at least more often than any other tactic does.

Her eyes dart over to a set of stairs she'd noted earlier, mainly because there's a set of hooks just at the bottom of them that's currently housing her sword and pistols. Footsteps echo, lighter than she'd expect, and a figure emerges – not a particularly tall or strapping figure, either. In fact, she's rather small and looking a little the worse for wear with matted, light brown hair falling out of a tattered hat and an outfit that might once have been fine. The coat is now a touch tattered as well, and her trousers are stained. A short sword rests at her hip.

The woman in the cell gives up the act she'd been planning to put on before she even gets started. Instead, she leans forward a bit, scowling at the newcomer and wondering if her eyes are deceiving her.

"Captain." The men in the cell next to her murmur, all their eyes now trained on the woman with the hat.

'Captain?' The woman in the cell mouths, trying to make sense of this and shaking her head when she can't. "Adrienne." She addresses the other woman, who settles a pair of piercing, dark blue eyes on her. "Not that you aren't an oddly pleasant sight for sore eyes just at the moment, but what the hell are you doing here?"

"I could I ask you the very same, _Capitaine _Turner_._" She crosses the short distance between them, silencing the men in the other cell with but a sideways glance.

The other woman's tone hints at mocking, but Emily just rolls her eyes as she gets to her feet, rubbing the back of her still aching head. She crosses the cell to face Adrienne. "I'll have you know I was just working on a plan for getting myself out."

Adrienne snorts out right at this. "You don't even know where you are, do you?"

That's – unnerving, actually. Enough that Emily freezes, dropping the act. "How do you know that?"

The other woman just smirks before turning her attention to the men in the next cell. Taking out a key, she inserts it into the lock on that cell and…nothing. It won't turn. Anger contorts the Frenchwoman's features, and she pulls at the thing, trying to force it, but it just won't work. She lets out a long stream of rapid French, curses, some of which Emily now knows. Leaning against her own cell door casually, arms crossed, she snorts at Adrienne. "Not very lady like, _Captain_." She mimics the tone Adrienne had used on the same word earlier.

Adrienne turns to glare at her, lets out a final curse, and then turns that glare on the key in her hand. "You do not know what I went through to get my hands on this! I was certain it was the right one!"

"Well, apparently…" A pause as Emily's brain finally starts to catch up with her. "Try it on mine."

Adrienne looks even more exasperated, if that's quite possible. "And why would I do such a thing?"

Emily's not even looking at her any longer, is patting down her person, searching through the folds of her skirts. She knows herself well enough to know… "Yes!" She produces a few of simple, small metal pieces. Lock picks. "Because picking my way out is iffy from this angle, but if that key works, I can have your boys here out, toot sweet. That, and, I do have a ship." Emily's brows furrow. "Somewhere…which is a matter we can discuss later when you're not quite possibly just moments away from being caught and thrown in a cell yourself." The truth is, that's exactly why she's asking this of Adrienne. Having no idea where she is, she also has no idea of how she'd fair outside the walls of her cell even if she can manage an escape. Though Emily hates to admit it, she and Adrienne might just need each other at the moment. Adrienne scowls. Emily gives a triumphant smile at the silent confirmation that she's right. "Do we have an accord, then?"

Adrienne grumbles some more in French, but tries the key in Emily's cell door. Wonder of wonders, it actually works. Good to know she does have some manner of luck. Emily lets out a sigh of minor relief as she steps out and first goes to retrieve her sword and pistols before getting to work on the other cell door, pausing just long enough to glare at the randy bunch behind it. "I do know how to use this sword. Test that if you will, but I wouldn't if you value your manhood, gents."

A pause as Adrienne chuckles, sounding genuinely amused at this. "I think I would pay to see that show if you would not be leaving me without my best men."

"These are your best?" Emily grumbles. "Healthy bunch, I'll grant you, but they seem to have just the one thing on their minds, not sure how you'd be getting around that."

"Oh, one finds ways."

"Ha!" There's a telltale _click_ and Emily swings the cell open. "Now, I'm supposing you did have some idea of where to go from here?"

"Of course." Adrienne says with vague indignation.

Emily rolls her eyes. "Well, then, seeing as we've just established I don't even know where we are." She gestures for the older woman to lead the way, and she does.

.

"Wha – oi!" A guard. Not particularly tall or strapping, this one. He looks determined, though.

Emily still doesn't recognize this place, but Adrienne has just told her they're almost free and clear of it. Or, they would be at least, if this goon hadn't planted himself in their way. She had just been wondering why there weren't more people around. Perhaps she'd jinxed it.

She almost reaches for her pistol on the off chance it'll be loaded – but no. If she fires that off, they'll really never make it out of here. Instead, she hands it and her sword off to Adrienne.

"What are you…" Adrienne hisses, sounding exasperated.

Emily ignores her as she struts down the hallway, pouting as she looks up through her lashes at the man holding a rifle. He looks rather unsure, raising his weapon halfway as he sizes her up. "H-hold it right there, miss."

She keeps going, expression giving nothing away even as her mind races. "Come now, soldier." She says, low and husky. "You're not going to waist a bullet on little ole me, are you? I'm sure we can come to some kind of understanding." She swaggers right up to him, giving him no time to react. Laying a hand on his chest and sliding it up to wrap her arm around his neck, she pulls him forward and plants a kiss on his lips, tongue instantly snaking out to ravish in a way a man would think impossible for a woman… and then she's slamming her Emily leg down on his foot, hard. He cries out and pulls back, and she snatches the rifle out of his hands and slams the butt of it into his stomach – and then his head as he doubles over. He collapses entirely. She steps back neatly, watching him. "Sorry, mate." She tosses the rifle down next to him and turns back to Adrienne and her men, one hand on her hip. "Coming?"

The men are all staring at Emily, expressions varying between fear, a measure of respect – or a little of both put together. Adrienne… just rolls her eyes.

.

"That was too easy." Emily pauses warily as they make it out onto the streets of a bustling town. They'd encountered just one other guard along the way, yes, but nothing that couldn't be handled. The corridors of the fort had been largely vacant.

"Are you complaining?" Adrienne asks before muttering some orders to her men in French. They head off, each going a separate way, though heading in the same basic direction it appears.

Emily shakes her head, unable to put a name to the unease settling in her gut. "Don't get me wrong. This is far better than waiting for I-don't-know-what down in that cell, but…"

Adrienne huffs. "Are you coming, or not?"

Emily follows her for lack of a better option. It's so strange that they stroll so easily through the streets. The residents of this town do send wary glances in Adrienne's direction, but avert their eyes quickly and seem more intent on just minding their own business. Emily looks around, and it's a lively port they're in. "Wonder who lives there?" She pauses a moment as her eyes fix on a mansion sitting proudly atop a hill in the distance. And it is a _mansion_, particularly in comparison to all the rest of the town.

Adrienne eyes the place up as well, looking a touch uneasy. "They say the Admiral himself has bought it up, though he rarely stays there."

"The Admiral." Emily darts to the side, turning her face a bit when a carriage rolls past them. She watches as it heads towards the mansion. "Interesting."

.

They seem to be heading down to the docks, passing shops and taverns and even a smithy as they do – Emily can hear hammering from inside, and thinks of her papa and what she once called home. Wait a moment…

Eyes wide, Emily gathers her skirts in her hands and sprints forward. She knows where they're going. Across that bridge, shadowed by palm trees, and there's the harbor full of ships and Emily continues on until she's standing just at the end of one section of the docks, staring out to open sea and shaking a bit as the pounding in her head returns with a vengeance.

Adrienne catches up to her after a moment, muttering in French. "Quel est le problème avec vous? You said you did not know where we are!"

"I don't." Emily shakes her head slowly, spinning on her heel and looking around, spying the fort sitting regally up on its cliff. "I don't know where we are, but I think…I know this place." A pause, and she finally turns her focus back on Adrienne. "Where are we?"

"You would not believe me if I told you."

"Oh, you'd be surprised by what I'm willing to believe."

Adrienne shrugs. "Welcome to Port Royal, _Capitaine_." A pause. "Your parents lived here, no? It is possible you know it from their stories."

"I suppose…" Emily looks around again, then shakes her head. "No. Well, I mean, yes, but no. This is _too _familiar." She brings her hands up to hold her head. "Blast my aching head! If – if this is Port Royal, then how are we standing here? I don't understand."

"The town was weakened after all that happened with Cutler Beckett, or so my papa once told me."

"So many years ago? It's regained strength since then, the Admiral saw to that, and my face should be plastered over everything determined as I thought he was to have my head." Then again, not too much has changed since she'd finally given Andrews his freedom. There are still plenty of East India Company ships scattered about, but they've been no more or less aggressive than they had been at the start, and Emily has started to wonder what it is the Admiral is waiting for now.

Shouting, up at the fort. It echoes, carried by the wind. A very delayed reaction to so many prisoners escaping. The two women don't stop to ponder any longer; Adrienne jogs back off in the direction they'd just come from, and Emily follows hot on her heels.

.

"Whoa." Emily looks around, eyes widening. It's a cave. Set into the cliffs beneath the fort, but well hidden. She would never have spotted it herself if Adrienne had not kept going, picking her way through the sand until the beach gave way to an outcropping of rocks. They'd had to climb over them to get here, but it was definitely worth it. There's a fire set up in the center of the cavern, blazing as several of Adrienne's men have already made it here. A few barrels and crates serve as tables and chairs. It looks an awful lot as though Adrienne has been camped out here a while. "Adrienne." She turns to the older woman, all business. "What's going on here?"

"Sit." Adrienne's already seated at one of the barrels. Emily crosses the room slow, skirting around Adrienne's men as she does, and sits across from her. "If I am very honest, I know little more than you do. I had thought I had some things figure out, but then I found you and now I am not so sure."

"I'm not surprised. I told you something's off. Not only am I thrown in a cell with no memory of how I got _here_, much less in there, but said cell just happens to be the one right next to your boys?"

"And I am sent through all the trouble to retrieve that key, only to have it be the one to your cell, not theirs."

"No way any of this is just coincidence." Emily glances back at the men scattered about the cavern. "They called you captain. Am I to assume that means you did have a ship? Of your own?"

Adrienne nods. "My father took on a pretty little Spanish galleon not more than a month ago. When the crew opted to jump ship, I asked if I could have it, and he proudly said yes."

"Well, then, where is it?"

"Taken from me." Her expression turns angry, cold. "Perhaps by the same men who arranged for you to be sent here and locked up."

"Perhaps." Emily runs a hand through her hair and winces at the pounding in her head. This would be one of those rare times when she finds herself tempted to call on her goddess. Not only would her born-of-an-immortal healing abilities be nice just now, but the fact she has no idea what's going on is even more unnerving than she's allowing herself to let on. She dismisses the thought as soon as it strikes her, however, as she always does. It may be a very long, ongoing battle, but she still intends to prove that she can do just fine on her own.

Adrienne grimaces as a thought seems to strike her. "If you do not remember how you got here, then how can you know they do not have the _Sea's Queen _as well?"

"I'd know if they had my _Queen_." Emily replies with no hesitation. "I'd never forget a detail like that, and Jo could run the ship if it were necessary, so..." She lights up at this thought. "Jo. We have a plan… She keeps to the Code, heads for Shipwreck at the first sign of trouble. If I could get a letter out…"

"You heard the shouting at the fort. There'll be guards out now, looking for us."

Emily sighs, frustrated. "Right. Probably best not to push my luck."

"But…" Adrienne goes on slowly. "They may not know the faces of my men so well. Though, I would suppose there is no guaranteeing that totty-headed slattern you call your first mate will be brave enough to sail here if what you say is true."

Emily rolls her eyes, pointedly ignoring Adrienne's insult to Jo because they'll get exactly nowhere if they start to bicker as they so easily could. "Considering we're currently held up in a cave, I should think it's worth a shot." Glancing around again, curiosity starts to take hold of her, especially when coupled with the fact that Adrienne currently looks more the ragged pirate than Emily. "How did that come about, anyway?"

"Comment, en effet." Cold fury reflects in the older woman's eyes again. "Now, there is the question."

.

The story she has to tell is long, but strange enough that Emily doesn't mind listening. It all started with Adrienne receiving a strange letter – which is to say, the letter did not specify who the writer was. It merely told Adrienne that she should sail for Port Royal, and do so with all haste. Adrienne's ship, which she had renamed _Sapphire_ for the collection of blue gems she'd found in the captain's cabin, was not terribly huge, nor did it particularly stand out aside from being of Spanish make. With this in mind and being quite curious, Adrienne had made the decision to do as the letter instructed. Picking up a few extra hands in Tortuga to compliment the crew she believed was fairly loyal, figuring they could come in handy if things got rough, she set sail for Port Royal.

At first, nothing seemed amiss. In fact, it was very smooth sailing; they didn't even encounter any other ships on their way. The letter had been very specific, and had even included a map of the island to show Adrienne a separate alcove where she could anchor her _Sapphire_ and not have to worry about the Navy. Explaining to her also that she would do well to dress more appropriate as the women of the upstanding port, it sent her on a merry jaunt through the bustling town to visit an old sailor and his wife. And this is where things got interesting.

The sailor was a grizzled old seadog, with a patch over his eye and a scarred and useless left hand, but was amicable enough. His wife, a plump, sweet little woman with kind green eyes, was quick to make Adrienne comfortable with tea and biscuits, and so they all sat down to converse. Adrienne, with wary trepidation, explained about the letter she'd received, trying to skirt around the fact she'd gotten here on a ship she captained. The old sailor was quick to jump on this, enquiring as to whether Adrienne had a ship at her disposal, although he didn't seem all too concerned with the details of whose ship it might be. Telling him that yes, she did, he went on to take his wife aside for a quiet conversation in private. Adrienne had been quite prepared to make a run for it at the first sign of trouble, worrying at this point that trouble was just what she'd managed to find, but this hadn't proved necessary. The old sailor soon returned, a touch of excitement behind his eyes as he presented her with two gifts – an intricate necklace of silver encrusted with deep blue gemstones he claimed matched Adrienne's eyes, and a map.

He went on to explain that his father had been from France, and had as well been a sailor, and had had a particular story he always liked to tell of his days at sea. A story that involved an island with caves full of the same sapphire stones, the god that watched over that island, and the Frenchwoman with deep blue eyes whose destiny it would be to protect said island from those that would rob it of all its beauty.

Adrienne, having once been a lady and now being very much a pirate, has quite the eye for finery and jewels, and was more than a little enchanted by the necklace itself. Thinking the legend to be just that, she promised the man whatever she thought he needed to hear, took the necklace and the map, and went on her way.

At this point in the story Adrienne touts her own stupidity for not setting sail that very evening. They only got halfway through the first watch before she was being awoken in her cabin; the ship was being attacked. Which is to say, it was halfway to being a mutiny. The men she'd picked up in Tortuga already had a master apparently, and combined with the fresh wave of men now crawling aboard her _Sapphire, _she was outnumbered. Half her men were slaughtered. Thankfully, her best were tougher than that – the six men hiding out in the cave with them had survived to tell the tale, and ran with her.

These men knew her father, so in some cases it was possibly more fear of him than loyalty to her that had them sticking with her. Adrienne, however, was not complaining at this point.

They wandered the area of the island that was jungle for a bit, but could only do so for so long. Finally, they were forced to head back for town. Adrienne had managed to snatch some things from her cabin upon making a run for it – namely the letter and its map, the map she'd gotten from the old sailor, and the necklace, along with a handful of the other jewels in the captain's cabin. The map of the island told her of the cave, so when one of her men was identified as a pirate by the brand on his neck, she made herself scarce and set up camp there with just two of her other men to help. When she thought she could get away with it, she went to see the old sailor again. He was gone, but his wife was able to help her into the fort…

"And here we are." Emily finishes for her, quite astounded. She takes a moment to think it all through. "So – what the devil does all this have to do with me?"

"Well, of that I am no more sure than you. My thinking is that the ship that is now mine has something to do with this legend, and that is why these other men wanted her. I cannot be certain, but I think perhaps that old sailor sent me the letter, though I cannot fathom how he would know to. But that would suggest he also set up my meeting you at the fort."

Emily runs a hand through her hair. "Which seems a touch far-fetched, but…"

"We've been to the Fountain of Youth. I am willing to believe nothing is impossible."

"Well, then, I suppose we'd better start to figuring a way out of here. I just have to get my hands on some ink and paper…"

* * *

><p>"<em>Emmy!"<em>

It's her brother calling out, screaming for her. There's yelling all around, quite a bit of it coming from her as she shouts out orders that are doing no good. There's no time to carry them out. The men are everywhere already and the _Queen _is outgunned to the point of devastation.

"_Emmy!" _

She's trying to claw her way across the deck – is thrown off her feet as a cannon nearly blasts a hole straight through her – nearly loses her sword as it clashes with that of a man twice her size – spins around quick and nearly runs Jo through, not realizing...

"_Emmy, look out!"_

He's trying to warn her. The brute she'd just grappled with scoops her up in two massive arms, and she can't get free, can't, can't…

.

She wakes with a start on the cold floor of the cave she and Adrienne are hiding in. She tries to sort through all the dreams images, but can't seem to focus on any of them as the pounding in her head returns. All that stays with her is the roar of the cannons and the voice of her baby brother, screaming her name.

Days pass, and she worries. Perhaps more than she should, given that she'd been so sure of herself in the beginning. She'd know, wouldn't she? If her _Queen _had been taken, she'd never forget that. Without Alex, that ship is her world. If something had happened, Emily would just _know_.

When they think enough time has passed, Adrienne gather's her men and prepares them for the trek across the island. The journey is tedious long, mainly because they have to skirt around the town and then through the lush jungle. Catching a glimpse of white sails as they finally make it to the small alcove Adrienne had first laid her own ship to rest in, Emily shoots forward, out past the trees and onto the beach.

Never before has she been so overjoyed to see her ship. And really, that is saying something.

Gathering in her hands the skirts of the dress – which she cannot wait to get out of – she wades out into the water with no hesitation. Spying Jo up on deck, peering down at her, Emily climbs up the side of the ship unhindered by her leg with the ease of much of practice.

"Captain!" Jo exclaims as she makes it up on deck. "By the old gods, if you aren't a sight for sore eyes!" She's got Emily's old coat in her hands, drapes it over the captain's shoulders.

"Me! Jo, you haven't the faintest. Mind, our girls looking a little beat up still for my taste." Emily looks around a bit as she sweeps her dampened hair out of her face. "Where's Joshy?"

"Here Emmy!" Joshy was apparently up in the crow's nest, watching for her perhaps? He's still clinging to the rigging, but jumps down onto the deck and runs up to face her, a grin nearly splitting his face in half. "I knew you'd come back to us!"

"Was there a question?" She ruffles his hair and treats him to a smile of her own before her brows furrow. "And papa?"

"Stayed back at Shipwreck." Jo answers. "Apparently Captain Teague wanted his help with something."

Something about that sounds odd, but Emily doesn't have time to think on it.

"_Capitaine? _Permission to come aboard?"

Jo freezes, eyes going wide at the familiar voice. "Erm, Cap'n?" She asks, wary.

Emily sends her an apologetic glance before turning to look out on the beach, where Adrienne is stood with her men. She wonders why the other woman is abruptly being so respectful. Perhaps she'd had her doubts of whether the ship would be here, as Emily had? She waves them forward. "Come on, then."

"Wait just – is that – are you really…" Jo stutters.

Emily turns back to her, tone turning a bit more captain-ish. "Yes that's Adrienne, yes she's coming aboard. She's been stuck hiding in a cave and we're now her only passage off the island, so I'm sure she'll be on her very best behavior." She rattles off. "Now try to stop stuttering and ready us to get underway as soon as we have her, I don't want to tempt fate by staying here any longer. Oh, and send her down to me when she and her men get settled."

Jo looks like she desperately wants to protest, her favorite scowl-grimace contorting her features. "But – Cap'n, she…"

Emily huffs, looping an arm through the older woman's and taking her aside. "There may or may not be a reward of a _shinier_ nature in the not too distant future if we can keep her happy. Or," she waves a hand, "whatever her approximation of happy is, I'm not sure that woman remembers how to smile properly, but you get the point." Jo's looking at her with both eyebrows raised now. Emily winks. "Incentive enough to play nice?"

"Aye. I think that'll about do it." The older woman turns and barks out a couple of orders to the men around as she goes to greet Adrienne.

More than ready to be out of the infernal dress and into something a bit easier to maneuver in, Emily heads down to her cabin.

~-~-~-~  
><em>Seven Months Ago, Port Royal<br>_~-~-~-~

The bakery is simply bustling with activity. Although, perhaps this isn't saying much, it usually is now. Ever since Laurel Norrington had ordered several dozen of the Old Woman's cinnamon pastries be made for the party the Admiral had thrown. Apparently, the lovely Miss Norrington wasn't the only one who liked the treats; the Old Woman is having so hard a time trying to keep up with the demand for her breads and pastries now, Alex alone is near on to running the rest of the bakery, and she'd even hired another boy to help. At least Alex is a quick study. Although his goal at the moment involves simply saving up enough coin to hop on a ship to the American colonies, he's beginning to think running a shop of some kind would be a most enjoyable way to set himself up…if he can ever get that far.

And he likes being busy. Being busy keeps his mind off of _her_, which is an excellent thing because not thinking about _her _is forever more easily said than done. Every little thing reminds him of her, even here. Every time he sells the pastries that are the same sort as the one he bought her for her birthday when they were children, he thinks of her and the kiss she bestowed upon his cheek for it. Every time he has an evening to himself and slips down to the tavern by the docks, he smells rum and the sweet apples she likes and thinks of her and how she would taste of the strange pairing as well. Every time he strolls through town and smells the salty sea on the breeze, he thinks of her and how beautiful she would look with her hair loose and blowing in that breeze, standing on the deck of the ship she loved more than him.

"Alex!" Speaking of much needed distractions. Imogene rushes forward as she enters the shop, but blushes deep as she receives a lightly disapproving look from another lady just leaving. "I-I mean. Good day, Mister Teague." She gives a slight curtsy.

"Miss Ellsworth." Alex greets with a smile.

"Ah. What I wouldn't give to have a man greet me with such a look." Another voice, the tone a strange mixture of wistfulness and sarcasm, brazen though her accent is proper and precise.

"Oh, Laurel!" Imogene breathes, a blush coming up to color her cheeks, as it often does around Alex. "Just because he smiles at me? Don't be silly."

Alex's eyes dance with amusement as they land on the other voices owner, though he tries to hide it. "Nice to see you as well, Miss Norrington." He replies, with sincerity. He likes Imogene's friend Laurel, perhaps because, like Imogene, her nose isn't so far stuck in the air as her station in life would entitle her to have it. Though, with Imogene, this is due to a heart truly full of kindness. Laurel Norrington is – in a class all her own. Alex can't figure her out. Perhaps _that's _why he enjoys the short conversations he does have with her.

"There, do you not see?" Laurel replies, the hint of a mischievous smirk in her eyes. "Even his smile is different when looking at others." She turns to greet Alex. "Master Teague. As I know I won't keep your attentions for long, I trust you already have my usual request?"

He nods. "Right 'ere, as always." He takes out the small box. "A baker's dozen for the lady."

"And the lady thanks you very kindly." She takes the box in exchange for an impressive handful of coins. Far more than the silly pastries are worth, but the first time Alex asked about this, she just winked and told him she was sure he'd find more use for them than she had, anyway. He decided to be smart and never questioned it again.

Imogene comes forward, a small wicker basket on her arm. Glancing around, Alex notes that the other boy he now works with seems to have things under control. Deciding it's safe to spare a few moments for Imogene, he comes out from behind the counter. "What's this?" He asks, glancing down at the basket.

"Oh, just a little something for lunch – if you think you could spare the time? I thought we might find a place down by the beach."

His eyes widen. This is not the first time Imogene has brought him food; in fact, she does so often enough now that he's joked she must be trying to fatten him up. But to suggest that they take a stroll…just the two of them…

Eyebrows raised, that same smirk behind her eyes now tugging at her lips, Laurel clears her throat softly. "Ah, and I believe that would be my queue to toddle off, as it were. Imogene, I shall see you tomorrow. Master Teague, good day."

Managing to remember himself, if only just, Alex turns and bows slightly. "Good day."

"Well?" Imogene prods, gentle, her sky blue eyes wide as ever and full of hope.

Alex brings a hand up to rub the back of his neck, uncomfortable. "I don't know. I mean, not that I wouldn't love to go with ye. S'just, well, people 'round 'ere seem to like their gossip. I ain' sure as I'm the kind o' company ye should be keepin, if I'm honest, Miss Ellsworth."

She loops an arm through his, smiling softly up at him. "I shall keep whatever company I enjoy keeping. Besides, why would anyone object to friends sharing lunch?" The question is innocent, as though, somehow, she really doesn't understand.

Alex isn't sure he wants to be the one to try and explain to her, so he switches tracks. "Erm, what about yer mum?" Because that woman scares him. He won't say it out loud. But Mrs. Ellsworth has a reputation for being a fierce little thing, and Alex doesn't want to get on her bad side.

"Mother trusts me. And perhaps we do not have to go down by the beach. There is that spot up near the Admiral's new mansion that couples go to picnic. It is well within plain sight of town, there'd be nothing left for the gossips to natter about. Come, please?"

Alex knows that spot, and she has a point. The grassy hill is far enough from town for privacy of conversation, but close enough for the town's residents to be sure nothing untoward could be happening with the couples there. He glances at the other boy still behind the counter, who eyes up Imogene – discreet and respectful about it – and raises his brows at Alex before gesturing for him to go. "Aye, alright." Alex reaches out to relieve Imogene of the basket. "Off we go then, Miss Ellsworth."

And as they go and have lunch and converse and laugh, and with the addition of much blushing, Alex's minds is, for once, pushed far from Emily Turner. So far, in fact, it is the next morning before even fleeting thoughts of her cross his mind again.

* * *

><p><em><strong>These next few chapters are sort of 'meanwhile…' chapters. The idea for them came from me basically just wanting to play with Adrienne's character a little, because I like to give all of my OCs plenty of love, as you may have noticed.<strong>_

_**On a different note, I've rewritten parts of this chapter so many times that I'm just calling it done out of frustration and a need to post something. Reviews? **_

_**Thanks for reading. :)**_

_**French:**_

_**Quel est le problème avec vous? – What is the matter with you?  
>Comment, en effet. – How, indeed.<strong>_


	70. Meanwhile 2: All Wrong

"This island must be massive." Emily points out as she pores over Adrienne's map. "But nothing about it is terribly familiar. Where is this supposed to be?"

"I am – uncertain. That old sailor gave me only this map and the necklace."

Emily plants a hand on her hip. "Not actually very much help, then, is it? Are you sure this was it?"

"Unless I left something behind on my ship. I suppose it is possible, I had thought there was more than this. Tout se est passé si vite…" She trails off, looking haunted, and shakes her head. "They stormed my cabin first thing. Perhaps the map is what they were looking for. If there were two and I left one behind – then they could be half way along already."

"But they'll be going in blind once they get there, they could spend days alone wandering the wrong half of the island. That'll slow them down."

Adrienne brightens a fraction at this, but then heaves a sigh. "But now how do we know what our heading is?"

Emily holds up a finger at this. "That, I may be able to help with." Reaching under her desk, she feels around a bit until she finds the right area, then charges two fingers to give a minute burst of magic as she presses up into the wood. A telltale 'click' sounds out and a compartment on the side of the desk pops open. She pulls it out and rummages around a bit, pushing aside a few odds and ends, including the Asian masterpiece of a map that had once taken her to the End of the world. Finally, she pulls out a certain unassuming, supposedly-broken compass and holds it up for Adrienne to see. "Now, tell me, Captain. Just how bad do you want your ship back?"

* * *

><p>"Emmy!" Joshy is yelling, trying to warn her.<p>

"Cap'n, behind you!" That's Jo's voice; she soon devolves into gruff curses as she tries to watch her own back.

"Saucy lit'le wench! Cap'n's goin ta be _real_ pleased to see you!" Massive arms circle her slender frame before she can turn and fight, and he's so strong, too strong, he picks her up like a rag doll. She kicks and screams and curses him but she can't get free, just can't…

.

The brig is small and dingy and she is cold and starving and so thirsty. She's been down here at least three days, and wonders whether her captives have forgot about her.

Her captors. Her stomach lurches as a chill runs down her spine. Who are her captors? The ship hadn't looked like a company ship, but…but it had been foggy…and she doesn't know. Oh goddess, she doesn't know. The last time they had caught her – she feels an echo of the pains across her back.

And her goddess had done to Emily the equivalent of sending a child to her room, punished her for being a bad girl. No more immortal. The wounds would linger and they would _hurt._

All at once she is terrified. She can hear heavy footsteps now, pounding down the stairs. They haven't forgot her, then. The footsteps grow closer, closer, and Emily tries to hold her head high even as her hands are shaking something fierce now. A hulking figure appears…

.

"You'd fetch me a lovely price." It's a man, not the brute who caught her, someone else. He circles her, predatory, running his hand through her hair, leaning in to smell it. "It falls like a waterfall, when cared for properly." He says of it, and comes to stand before her, grabbing her chin roughly and pulling it up to face him, as though to inspect her, like she's little more than his property. She refuses to look at him. "And those lips are just begging to be kissed." He leans in as though tempted to do the kissing himself, and she almost wishes he would, she'd bite his tongue clean off and if not, his lip. He lets her go though, steps back and clasps his hands behind his back. "An awful pity. Yes, if not for the leg, you'd fetch a lovely price indeed, even with those unfortunate freckles."

She wants to _gut _him, for the backhanded insult, for what he's suggesting he could've done with her, for what that means he's done with other girls. She wants to rip out his tongue and feed it to the sharks and then she'd move lower and oh how she'd enjoy…

.

His face. Blast it all, the visions – memories – they're all fuzzy and she can't remember his name, and his face is a blur and she just can't…

.

She wakes with a start, sweat dripping down her cheeks and dampening her night clothes and the sheets around her. The throbbing in her head comes back again, and now her insides have decided to do summersaults too, maybe because of her head, she doesn't know. Before she can think on it further instinct has her on her feet and shooting across to throw open her window and jump out to the balcony beyond as her belly relieves itself of what little was in it.

There's a brief moment where dizzy confusion overtakes her as someone comes up behind her, pulling brunette waves out of her face. "A-Alex?" She stutters, because she sees him so often in her dreams at times.

There's a pause, and a soft tenor answers. "Dreaming of him again?"

She relaxes, her shoulders slumping as she closes her eyes and takes a moment to breath, in and out, slow and easy. When her stomach settles and the pain in her head becomes marginally less violent, she turns to the boy behind her. "How do you know I dream of him?"

Riley's expression is unreadable. "Sometimes you call out in your sleep."

She should feel guilt for this, but can't be bothered to. "No. I wasn't dreaming of him." She doesn't go on.

Riley knows by now; she'll elaborate if and when she's ready. "Come on." He says only in reply, helping her to stand on wobbly legs. She wraps an arm around his bare shoulders and allows him to help her back to bed.

She lays with her back to him, and they curl up together. He runs a hand through her hair, and all is silent as she collects her thoughts. "I think – I was dreaming about what happened. While I was gone."

"The days you can't remember?"

"Bits n' pieces. None of its clear enough to…" She sighs, tired more than frustrated at this point. He is silent as he continues to play with her hair. She glances back at him. "What are you thinking?"

A pause. "You won't like it."

"Tell me anyway."

He never refuses her. "Do you think, perhaps – if these memories are causing you pain, maybe you should try a more _creative_ solution?"

She turns to him now. "Magic, you mean?" She asks, a little sharper.

He shrugs. "No one said all magic had to be bad magic." He brushes a strand of her hair back behind her ear. "If it could help with your memories, for instance…"

She thinks on it a moment. "I suppose, I could ask Jo."

"It can't hurt." He replies, pressing a kiss to her temple.

She pushes him back so he lays down, and she curls into him, head laid on his chest. "S'ppose not."

"What did you dream of?"

"A man – he was _inspecting_ me. Like I were an object – a jewel, but a tarnished one." She shivers. "I don't know what it all means, but I know whoever he was, he should be very worried. If I manage to remember a name…"

At least now she knows one thing for certain. She's missing more than just a few days of memories. In fact, put together with the fact the _Queen _had limped all the way back to Shipwreck after the battle, she realizes…she's missing at least a week.

* * *

><p>"It is strange." Riley comes up to lean back against the rail the next evening, accompanying her at the helm when the majority of the crew is dismissed to get some sleep." Until I met you, I had never met a woman who wasn't buried in skirts and stays. Now I am on a pirate ship with two lady captains who traipse around in trousers as though it's perfectly natural."<p>

Emily bristles a bit, scoffing. "_Lady _captains. Adrienne was one of those I think, once, but now it's just pretend. No ladies on this ship, Riley."

Riley rolls his eyes. "Well. I use the term a bit more loosely now, don't I?"

Emily sends a glance in his direction, amused. "On me?"

"Alright, I use it _very _loosely." He amends, laughter in his voice. "Anyway, how do you know Captain LaBelle? I don't recall seeing her but once before now."

"Captain – by the old gods, I'll never get used to hearing that in reference to her. Captain LaBelle." The surname of Adrienne's mother, Emily guesses. Her father's name would be too well known for Adrienne to take and use it for herself. "Sounds like utter madness to me, it does, and with that name." She rants a bit, shakes her head, sighs. "_Adrienne _was on a ship we took, a few years ago now, back when Ana was still captain of the old _Sea's Queen_. I wasn't even first mate at the time, Alex and I were just…" She stops short, quickly schooling her expression so Riley doesn't glimpse the pang that still shoots through her heart whenever she thinks of _him._ "Anyway, Adrienne was looking for her father, so Ana agreed to take her on as cook. She was good at that, though not much else at the time. Whether she's actually come so far since remains to be seen, in my humble opinion."

"Any particular reason why the two of you hate each other?" Riley asks, boldly curious, but then, she always allows him that when in private.

"Plenty of particular reasons, not a few of them rather petty if I'm honest, but," she shrugs, "if you're expecting anything more you shouldn't be making friends with pirates."

"Mmm, I should think I'm well aware of that by now." He replies, passive. "It's just, she doesn't seem so bad to me."

Emily glances at him, gaze a little more sharp than she intends to allow it to be. "That implies you've had a conversation with her proper enough to tell."

He hesitates a bit. "She joined the crew down in the galley at supper, just happened to sit next to me."

"Happened to?" Emily snorts. "I'm not sure that Adrienne LaBelle-Barbossa just 'happens' to do anything when it comes to boys she thinks she could charm. I'd watch out for her, Riley."

A pause as Riley studies her. "Oh." He says after a moment. "I see."

Another sharp glance at him. "See what?" She asks, tone lowering dangerously.

He doesn't take the warning. "Well. It was no secret that Sparrow was rather a womanizer. I suppose that all started with Captain LaBelle, then?"

Emily turns to him now, one hand falling away from the wheel to plant itself on her hip. "Riley Connelly, you cheeky bilge rat, if you keep that up I'll have you spending the next twenty four hours in the brig."

He rolls his eyes, but clears his throat and straightens up. "I know that tone. Suppose I'm sleeping with the crew tonight then?" She only glowers at him. He turns to go, but pauses at the steps leading down from the helm, turning back to her as though he just can't resist. "Mind, I know you well enough to know you only threaten when I've hit the nail on the head, as it were."

"Riley!"

"Goodnight, Captain." And with that, he beats a hasty retreat.

She glares after him, thinks of Alex, and can't help but to wonder if he's any better off for leaving than she too often feels for letting him.

~-~-~-~  
><em>Five Months Ago, Port Royal<br>_~-~-~-~

The ship is so – small. Alex scowls at himself as he sizes the vessel up, one hand coming up the rub the back of his neck. He himself wouldn't be bothered by this. There's nothing about this easily-month-long journey that worries him in the slightest. He's a little uncertain on just what his future will hold where he's going, but his time with the Old Woman at the bakery has given him confidence that he'll be fine no matter where he ends up.

Of course, it helps that he has Imogene. In fact, she's the only reason this is possible for him. Her family is well known where they are headed. She says she'll do what she can for him, and this makes his outlook all the more optimistic overall.

So the point isn't him being bothered by the size of the ship. It's _her_. It's _her _in his head, always in his head with that infernal smirk and her beautiful laughter and the playful, impish glint in her eyes. It's imagining Emily standing next to him, hand on her hip and looking decidedly unimpressed. It's hearing her voice, that sultry alto. _I knew you'd miss me. _She mocks him. _Me and the _Queen. _Our lady could get us there in half the time this ole piece of drift wood will. It'd feel even faster with all the fun we could be having along the way_… And she'd be winking, leaving no room for doubt of just what kind of _fun _she means.

The kind of fun some part of him (the _old _him, the part he's trying hard to do away with) would like nothing more than to try on a certain blue-eyed china doll of a beauty, if he's very honest… But he stops himself short here, as he always does. Not with Miss Imogene. Miss Imogene doesn't care for him quite like that, he knows it, and as well she shouldn't. He wouldn't deserve any such thing from her. He wouldn't deserve her even _considering _it.

"Having second thoughts?" Another female voice, all-too-familiar now, startles him out of his reverie.

"What?" He blinks, and turns to Laurel Norrington, a light blush creeping up to color his cheeks as she raises a brow. "Oh, erm, no! I mean – I was just…"

"I don't believe I've ever heard you stutter so." She points out, sounding curious. "Have you ever traveled outside the Caribbean before? It is quite a journey."

"Yes. No! I mean…" He takes a breath, gathering his thoughts. "I have been, to England. But this feels different." He turns to stare back up at the ship. "Got no plans to come back this time, me. This is it."

A bit of a pause. "Is she worth it, do you think?"

"I'm..sorry?" He asks, a little befuddled now.

"Imogene." Laurel replies, firm. "Do you think it will be worth it, following her all the way up there?"

"Oh. Erm, not sure I'd say I'm really doin this for _'er_, this was me plan from the start. Basically. Sort of." Laurel just raises a brow again. He deflates slowly, and huffs. "Aye, then. Fine. If ye must know, yes. Even if I can't be more than 'er friend, she is the kindest girl I 'ave ever had the privilege of knowin and I think I'd follow 'er anywhere just for that."

She nods, and there is an interesting amount of understanding behind her eyes. "She has that effect on everyone. As if she simply radiates _goodness _in a way that makes you believe the world we live in isn't all that bloody awful after all and for that you wish to always have her near."

Another pause. Alex opens his mouth, a million different questions flitting through his mind. But he doesn't know which one to start with. And none of them are things he thinks she'll be open to discussing, anyway. So he closes his mouth again, nods, then finally answers. "Yeah. S'ppose that sums it up rather nice."

Turning to him fully, Laurel fixes him with a hard stare, her green eyes turning piercing as she lowers her tone and leans in as far as she can get away with. "Take care of her. Her mother is pushing for a marriage. Now, Missus Ellsworth means well, of that I am sure, but Imogene has been so sheltered, I worry what she may do in an effort to please the old woman. I understand my advice may mean little, but keep working as hard as you have been. Perhaps, if you catch the right sort of attention from Imogene…"

Alex shakes his head. "That would take a miracle to work out, and I don't deserve one. I don't deserve 'er. Miss Norrington, if ye could only understand…"

"I believe I may have more understanding than you'd like to think." She says, a little softer. "But I also understand you're coming to care for her. And I know that if anyone _does _deserve a miracle, it is our Imogene. Perhaps, on balance, that will be enough for one to come about." A carriage rolls up, Imogene's bright eyes peering out from the window and a smile gracing her lips as the sky blue orbs land on Alex. Laurel steps back. "I wish you fair winds and safe travels, Master Teague." She offers him the slightest of curtsies. "Along with much luck."

"Thank ye kindly, Miss Norrington." He gives a slight bow in return and watches as Laurel goes to greet Imogene, shoulders back and chin up now, with scarce a lingering hint of the darker _something _he'd seen swirling behind her green eyes a moment ago.

Tucking their conversation away to ponder on it later, as it looks like he'll be having more than enough time on his hands to do so, he decides he'll stay out of the Ellsworth's way for now. Hitching the small leather bag full of his meager belongings higher on his shoulder, he pushes forward and onto the ship.

As it sails away a short time later, he doesn't look back. Not once.

~-~-~-~  
><em>Present Day, The <em>Sea's Queen_  
><em>~-~-~-~

The sun is shining bright as ever. The waters beneath them are calm and smooth. And aside from feeling a general, constant disquiet over her missing memories, Emily's feeling much better after a few days of being_ home_. So why now, as she emerges topside, does she get the disturbing though vague feeling that something is…just, off?

Strolling further out on deck, she finds herself pausing a moment, though she's not quite sure why. The smell of the sea, so strong and fresh, and the warm sunshine on her skin, unhindered…it's not the first time she's found herself pausing to bask in it on some unknown impulse. Something to do with what happened over the weeks she can't remember? If she'd been locked up in some manner of cell all that time…

She doesn't want to think on it just now. More preoccupied with the feeling that all is not quite right, she makes her way up to the helm. Though they've no specific destination just yet, she's been of a mind to have them heading anywhere that will keep the _Queen _out of the Navy's way for the moment. That doesn't leave them too many options of where to go, but Adrienne had insisted she'd take care of that soon enough.

Back to things feeling off… Jo's at the helm, and not alone. Three members of the _Queen'_s crew are hovering close by, looking rather fretful. Emily pauses halfway up the stairs, hesitating. She's only in time to catch Jo turning to them with just one hand still on the wheel, her expression downright thunderous.

"Hold your tongue," she snaps, gruffer than Emily's used to hearing from her, "or by the old gods, I'll have it…"

Not liking the sound of this, Emily clears her throat as she climbs the last few steps. She eyes the three men up as they stiffen, looking anywhere but at her. Jo's the one looking fretful now, having trailed off the moment her eyes landed on her captain. Emily places a hand on her hip. "Something amiss?" She asks the older woman.

Jo glances sharply at the three men she'd just been scolding. "Nothing at all, Captain. Bit of a misunderstanding, I think, is all." She turns fully to the men again, eyes hard. "Bunch of old hens, is all I see, clucking at me like you were just now. Back to work, all of you!"

They scramble to do as they're told. Two stop briefly to acknowledge Emily; the third only meets her eyes a moment as he slips right past her. She turns to eye him up as he goes.

"Care to tell me just what that was all about?" She asks Jo, turning slowly back to face the older woman.

Jo shakes her head, and looks as though she's trying to hold back her favorite scowl-grimace. "Nothing that's worth you being concerned, I expect, you've got enough to…"

"Miss Gibbs." Emily says, more the Captain, not liking the way the older woman is trying to dodge her. "That wasn't a question."

Jo mutters a bit under her breath. "Apologies, _Captain_. The boys are getting a little – it's just, we expected you to be a little more the worse for wear, long as you disappeared, and since you aren't, well. The boys get a little too, erm, _creative_ sometimes."

A pause as Emily thinks on this, and then nods. "Well. Next time they decide they just can't contain this _creativity_, I want to hear about it." Making sure her tone leaves no room for argument. "Immediately."

Jo nods. "It's only those three have come to that point now, I think. Nothing to worry about."

She knows Jo means well, but Emily can't help but to worry anyway, if only just a little.

* * *

><p>To spite having been sailing with Emily for few years now, and sparring with her for the past nine months of that time, Jo just isn't as over-graceful with a blade in her hand. Emily can see where it would be frustrating, but is, unashamedly, amused.<p>

"Oh! Will you wipe that blasted grin of your face!" Jo grumbles, irritable, as she goes to retrieve her sword for the fourth time this practice session. They are in the hold, having cleared a space just big enough for their purposes, and Jo leans against a barrel to catch her breath. "I don't know what's so infuriating; the fact you can best me so quick, or the smirk on your lips as you do it."

Emily laughs, giving her sword a skillful twirl, playful. "Oh, come on Jo, it's all in good fun, and you _are _getting better. You couldn't hold me for that long when we started months ago, it's a wonder you haven't been hurt more often."

Jo huffs. "Our goddess has been kinder to me than she should have, this is me trying not to keep tempting fate."

A pause and Emily's smirk fades. "You were never so worried about that before. I wonder, is it fate you worry about, or a certain Captain who apparently managed to hit the wrong nerve with even you?"

Jo looks surprised; Emily's caught her off guard. She is getting good at doing that to people. "Why would you think – we've not heard word of him in months."

"Just, I was thinking. You only came to me wanting to practice the first time after we sent Andrews on his way that day. And if I were wrong, you wouldn't have so easily guessed who I was talking about."

"Well, I…hate you." Jo grumbles in response, sending Emily a glare.

Emily laughs again. "You couldn't if you tried!"

"Just sometimes." Jo amends.

Emily rolls her eyes. "Fair enough. Anyway, if it's a crack at Andrews you're hoping to get someday, you may not be as far off as you think from winning that battle. You're so tiny you could dodge a man Andrews' size easy, you know, and he'd be no match for you where foot works concerned, being you're so much lighter too." The smirk plants itself on her lips gain as she brings up her own sword as though inspecting it. "And as for besting me, my father's the only one who's managed that since I was small, I'll have you know."

"You talk big, Capitaine." A new voice reaches the women's ears, a man's tenor. "I would like to see you back up such claims."

Emily turns, a little startled, a scowl contorting her features as she spots the man hovering in the doorway to the room they're in. It's one of Adrienne's men, her first mate, a Frenchman named Louis with an accent thick as his captain's. She glares at him. "If you wished to watch, you might've asked."

"Forgive me, Capitaine Turner. My Capitaine is looking for you up on deck, and sent me to search for you. I did not want to interrupt you. You are not bad with that lovely blade of yours, I cannot deny."

She sheathes said blade and crosses the room, Jo following. "So are you and the rest of your Captain's," she tries not to cringe saying it, she really does, "men, I'd wager, or else you wouldn't be here."

"And neither would my Capitaine. This is true." He concedes with a slight bow. "But I suspect any modesty you have to show is quite false."

"It's not that I think your men any less competent than I implied they must be." Emily replies amiably. "I just know what I myself am capable of."

"Oh?" The Frenchman smirks a bit. "And what do you think you are capable of."

Emily glances back at Jo, who now looks amused as she crosses her arms, then turns back to Louis. "I've been practicing like that just about every day since my father first put a sword in my hand at nine years old." She replies. "If I'm honest, I'd be willing to bet I could be half drunk and still beat all your men. In a fair fight, of course – which is to say, swords only."

"Of course." He seems to look her over a bit, calculating. "An interesting way to put it, Capitaine. I think my men would quite enjoy putting you to the test."

A pause, and Emily chuckles. "Perhaps I'll bring it up to your Captain. _I'd _be interested to see what stakes she could come up with."

"Perhaps you should do that." He sweeps out of the way, gesturing for her to go first with one hand held out.

* * *

><p>Well, alright, Emily thinks as she comes to lean in the doorway to the stateroom she'd had little use for until now. So maybe Adrienne does have at least half a clue what she's doing. She certainly looks knowledgeable enough, hovering over the maps Emily had put at her disposal. Emily still can't imagine her captaining a ship, but she supposes this at least puts the older woman half a step closer.<p>

"I believe I have managed to chart our course out." Adrienne looks up. "Assuming, of course, that this compass of yours does what you say it does."

"Believe me, it does just what I said it does."

"Then we are headed towards Spain. I thought you would appreciate being informed before our course was changed."

Emily crosses her arms, feeling abruptly wary. It's never been like Adrienne to be any kind of courteous. She just nods, though. "I'm a bit impressed, if I'm honest."

Adrienne throws her shoulders back, haughty. "I can assure you, Emily –"

"Peg." She snaps, automatic, with enough vehemence to startle Adrienne. At the older woman's blank stare, Emily relaxes, remembering how long it's been since she last saw Adrienne. "Only my Papa calls me Emily." She elaborates, forcing it to sound more flippant. "Sounds weird hearing it from anyone else, anymore. Call me Peg or Turner or – just about anything else."

"Mes excuses." The older woman eyes her, her face a question mark, but she apparently decides not to ask. "As I was saying," she resumes slowly, "I can assure you I am not totally incompetent as I assume you think."

"I don't think you're _totally _incompetent." Emily crosses the room to glance at the maps spread out on the long table in the center of the room. "Sounds like you'd know your way around a chartroom." Adrienne scowls, glaring now. Emily shrugs and tries to look innocent. "Anyway, looks like we've got a bit of a journey ahead of us."

There's a pause. Adrienne's scowl fades some as she studies Emily. "Why are you helping me?" Emily raises her eyebrows. Adrienne goes on, hasty. "Not that I am – ungrateful, but you could just as easily drop my men and I off at Tortuga and… how would you put it? 'Call us square'?"

Emily plants a hand on her hip. "Perhaps I'm just feeling generous." The scowl is back again. Emily snorts. "You know, that pretty face of yours won't last so much longer, I expect, you keep making faces like that."

"Mon dieu. I don't think I've ever met anyone who tried my patience as you do."

"Is that saying something? I aim to please."

Adrienne huffs now, rolling her eyes and muttering more French. "You haven't answered my question!"

"Erm…what _was _the question exactly?" She's not really dodging with a purpose anymore, she's just enjoying how exasperated the Frenchwoman is. When did this get to be so much fun?

Adrienne pauses and shakes her head and appears to take a breath. "I know better than to think you would help me for nothing."

"That little story you told me about what's meant to be waiting on this island of yours, did you stop to think that'll be reward enough? If we get there and it really is full of these lovely gems, then I'll call it all square, and happily." A pause. Adrienne looks even more troubled now. "What?" Emily asks.

Adrienne waves her off. "Nothing of importance."

Emily studies her a moment, thinks about prying, decides she doesn't care enough. "You know, that first mate of yours gave me an interesting idea earlier." She brings up instead, turning to lean back against the table, arms crossed lazily. "He caught me n' Jo sparring down in the hold. Seems to think your boys might enjoy putting my skills to the test. I told him I could probably be half drunk and beat them all, which might have something to do with it, but I thought it could be good fun."

Adrienne thinks on this a moment. "Oui. That it could be. I will admit, my boys are not the most skilled with their swords. You have seen them. They win because they are strong. It would be interesting to watch them go against one who knows what she is doing. I highly suspect they would all lose, some way or other."

Emily just can't let this one go. "I'm – I'm sorry, could you repeat that?" She replies, smug. "I thought I just heard you pay me a compliment."

Adrienne juts out her chin, haughty again. "Je parle la simple vérité. Unlike you, I am not above giving credit where it is due. I have seen them fight, and I have seen you fight. You know better what you are doing because you are smaller and you must."

Emily shrugs at this. "True. Well, what say you to a bit of a wager then?" She claps her hands, a little excited now. "I'm sure we can come up with something interesting."

"Of that I have no doubt." Adrienne eyes Emily a bit. "But I have a condition first."

"Name it." Emily replies, up for anything.

"Louis has told me he spotted you practicing with your left hand."

Emily winces a bit at this; she'd been hoping to keep this new trick a secret. She nods, grudging. "My right arm was hurt some six months ago, grazed by a bullet as a Navy ship came to help a little merchant fight us off. I couldn't use it, so I've been trying to teach myself not to have to."

Adrienne nods. "My condition is you use your left hand, then, at least to start. Even the odds for my men, perhaps?"

"Alright. I beat any of your crew that wants to try me, starting left handed and only switching if they prove enough of a challenge, and you play nice with Jo for the rest of this venture. I don't much fancy having to keep an eye on you and her all the way to Spain, I've got a ship to run, you know."

"Done." Adrienne replies, a little too readily.

Emily decides to ignore the soft warnings going off in her head. There's only so much the older woman could be up to, and Emily's not over worried about any of it. "And you?"

"If you do not beat my crew," Adrienne hesitates, then shrugs as though careless. "Well, I am not at all certain you won't. I will come up with something later, on the off chance this should be the case."

It's not like Adrienne to be so careless, either. But what could she be up to? She has no ship and the equivalent of barely half a crew. Perhaps Emily is simply paranoid? Deciding on a tentative show of good faith, she holds out her hand, decisive. "Deal, then."

Adrienne's hand snakes up to play with a necklace around her neck, a small medallion, some sort of symbol in the middle Emily's never seen before. With a sudden grin, she snakes out her other hand to clasp Emily's.

Emily decides she likes it better when the Frenchwoman is scowling.

* * *

><p><em><strong>:)<strong>_

_**French:  
>Tout se est passé si vite ... – It all happened so fast…<strong>_  
><em><strong>Mes excuses. – My apologies.<br>Je parle la simple vérité. – I speak the simple truth.  
><strong>_


	71. Meanwhile 3: The Bet

What Emily really dreams of is a New England farm. Or, at least, what she supposes one would be like. It occurs to her that these dreams are odd for that reason, actually. Out here in Caribbean waters they have plantations, entire islands devoted to them in cases, but she suspects any of those she's seen would be quite different from those where Alex very likely is by now. But she dreams of one anyway. She dreams of a sweet little farm house, a coup full of chickens, big sturdy horses, cows lowing from out in a field. And of course she dreams of _him_. She dreams of sleeping in his arms, riding those horses with him, being content to cook and keep house while he minds the farm. She wouldn't be for long, in reality, but that's what dreams are for, right?

Even in these dreams, her mind won't conjure up children for them. She can never decide whether the thought she maybe won't ever have them is a relief or a reason to grieve. Perhaps, for her, it will always be both, which may well be why she doesn't dare even dream of them.

It's been nine months, and still she longs for the nights she has these dreams.

It's rather unfair to Riley, dreaming of another while in his arms. She realizes this. But something in her sort of broke the night Alex left. She finds herself entirely unconcerned by what's 'fair', because 'fair' never seems applied much to her. The only time she gets what's 'fair' for herself is when she takes it and is unapologetic about it. And if Riley has a problem – well. He doesn't have to share her bed at night, does he?

Some small part of her knows that Alex would be ashamed of her for many things now, and it pains her at times to think of it. But then she thinks of that vision, the one she'd had of him and the porcelain-skinned China doll of a beauty. And she thinks that if that's what Alex Sparrow wants out of a lover…well, maybe Emily and he are both better off for his having left, after all.

~-~-~-~  
><em>Five Months Ago, Ship Crossing to the New World Colonies<br>~-~-~-~_

The waters here are calmer than what he's used to this time of the year.

They've not yet made it to their destination, though the Captain says it'll only be another two days at most. Alex thinks he'll be, for once, happy to set foot on solid ground after such a journey. The ship isn't particularly large, so space has been rather cramped. And, as if that isn't enough, there's too much now about being out at sea that has him unable to stop thinking of Emily. He misses her desperately, though he scarce misses all the rum-soaked trouble she'd come with by the time he'd left her standing there on the _Queen._

The look on her face as she'd begged him to stay…he can't make the image leave his mind. It's haunted his dreams ever since.

"Alex?" A voice murmurs, soft and tentative.

He starts a bit, turning to glance down at the slight figure standing next to him. "Oh. Apologies, Miss Ellsworth, I was – gettin lost in me own 'ead."

Soft, sky blue eyes meet his a moment. "It's alright. You seem to do that rather often. I wonder sometimes if you are thinking of what awaits you at our destination, or whatever it is you've left behind." A pause, Alex turns to stare back out to see, debating on how to answer that. The young woman next to him frowns a bit. "Forgive me. I should know better than to…"

"No…" He cuts her off gently. "It's alright, Miss Ellsworth. I must admit, s'usually what I've left be'ind that I can't stop thinkin about. But I can promise ye wouldn't want to 'ear about that."

She looks a bit as though she wants to protest, but reigns herself in with the practiced control of a lady. "That is quite up to you, of course. After all, it is your future that concerns me. I've spoken to my mother, and she says my uncle was just lamenting in his last letter the fact that he hasn't an extra pair of hands to help him at the store he runs. Now, boys just a bit younger are usually considered best subjects for apprenticeships I think, but I am so very close to my uncle, and I just know that if I ask very nicely he will give you a chance."

Alex turns fully to her now, eyes widened. "Miss – I would owe him greatly if he were to take me on." A pause. "And you as well. I'll never be able to repay the kindness ye've shown me."

"Don't be silly!" She exclaims softly. "I don't expect to be repaid. Only, you might be sure and come to visit me every so often. Our estate is ever so beautiful even during the colder months, and mother and I will have it quite to ourselves now, I think we should both like the company."

A ghost of a roguish smirk tugs at the corner of Alex' slips. "Are ye so sure of that? Perhaps you'd like the company, but yer mother watches me like a 'awk. I think she just wants me away from you and out of 'er 'air."

Imogene laughs, a beautiful sound like the tinkling of bells. "Mother has grown protective of me in the absence of my father. But I know her. She is coming to like you, if only very slowly."

He smiles now, small but genuine. "I 'ope so. I would like to still see ye."

Porcelain cheeks turn a lovely shade of red as she returns his smile.

~-~-~-~  
><em>Present Day, the <em>Sea's Queen  
>~-~-~-~<p>

Eager to start heading for their destination, and with such a journey ahead of them, Adrienne and Emily decide to hold off on their fun little bet. The winds are on their side, and so Emily gives Adrienne the helm (it is her map, after all), hovering close by of course, and a routine is settled into with the temporary additions to the _Queen's _crew. And in that time, strange as it very much is, Emily begins to realize that she no longer quite hates the other woman as she once did. And, even stranger, the feeling seems to be mutual. She rather doubts they'll ever really call each other friends, but without Alex around, they've nothing specific to fight over.

In fact, she's finding she can enjoy the other woman's company, if not always for very long.

Day's pass before their luck runs out, as it was bound to eventually. They wake one morning to find the winds have died out and the sails hang limp from their beams. With little else to be done for this night, at least, and after a long day spent with little to do, Emily allows the crew an extra ration of rum and retreats below decks with a full bottle in her own hands.

She settles herself in her cabin, curled up comfortable in the window seat with a guitar in her lap. A gift, from her Uncle in fact, though Captain Teague was the one to begin teaching her to play it. They'd been trying to make up for what she'd lost through Alex, she suspects, but no one will hear her complain of it. She enjoys playing, and indeed, has shown a bit of a talent for it according to Teague. Though, perhaps that is just because she enjoys it so and therefore is diligent in practicing.

She strums it, practicing cords and a simple tune between indulging in the rum set beside her.

"Jolie." A voice praises in a moment of silence. "Where did you learn that?"

Emily offers Adrienne a small smile for the compliment. "Captain Teague. Alex's grandfather. I can't play even half as well as he, yet, but it's enough fun that I keep trying."

Taking the conversational answer as the offer it is, Adrienne crosses the room. Emily shifts a bit to leave room on the window seat, and the Frenchwoman makes herself comfortable. "I have always wished that I was gifted with music. My mother was well known for her talent, with a piano and the harp as well as her voice, but I could never play as well as she."

"What about singing? I don't recall ever hearing you try."

"I was – not terrible. But I'm afraid I haven't much wished to since Maman passed on."

Emily nods in understanding. Silence ensues, not uncomfortable, and she goes back to strumming the guitar.

"May I ask you something?" Adrienne asks after a long moment. "I gather it may be – personal."

Emily studies her a moment. "Only if I can ask you something in return."

Adrienne nods. "You may go first, if you wish."

"That scar…" Emily points out on her own jaw the place where the small but noticeable pink scar sweeps up from Adrienne's. "How did you get it?"

Eyebrows raising, Adrienne snorts. "Do you not remember?"

"Remember…you mean it's got something to do with me?"

"At the Fountain of Youth. We fought."

"Well, yes, I remember that, though it's hazy."

Adrienne softens at this, just a fraction, as she glances down at Emily's bad leg. "Yes, I imagine it would be with the state you were in." She shakes her head. "I suppose you wouldn't have realized, but you caught me with your blade," she reaches up to touch the scar on her jaw, "drew blood."

"Oh. No, I hadn't realized with all that was happening at the time. I'd be lying if I apologized, though, so I won't."

Adrienne shrugs. "That is fair. It was petty of me to have come at you as you were."

Pirates. Neither of them even needs to say it. Emily takes a pull from her bottle, offers it to the Frenchwoman. "What was your question, then?"

Adrienne hesitates, excepting the bottle and taking a sip before coming out with it. "Alex. Where is he?"

Emily sighs, and doesn't answer for a long moment, strumming her guitar again. "Gone."

"Well – yes, I can see he is not _here_, but…"

"No. _Gone_." Emily sets the guitar aside and reaches for the bottle again. "Probably off settled somewhere in the American Colonies by now, pretending to be a gentleman while he continues to bed whatever pretty little thing even half catches his eye."

"Colonies?" Adrienne sounds, and looks, genuinely shocked. "But why on Earth would he – cela n'a aucun sens. I don't understand."

"Neither do I, entirely." Emily replies.

"Was – was it another woman that he left with? Is that why he did it?"

This is the story she's given everyone, even Riley. Only Jo knows the truth, and Emily is very content to keep it that way. "Aye, there was a woman involved." Another pull from the bottle.

"Well, of course." Adrienne replies, sighing. "There always is with him, no? Still. It seems almost traitorous of him, to run off in such a way."

"Almost." Emily agrees, because she's half begun to the more she thinks on it all. "But it could've been worse, I figure. He could've been truly stupid and decided to join the Navy or something like that."

"That is true, I suppose." Adrienne turns to stare out the window, and there is real sadness behind her piercing, dark blue orbs. "I know it did bother him at times, our way of life." She says softly. "Perhaps he will find happiness, where ever he is now."

Another moment passes in silence. Emily stares down at the bottle in her hands and thinks of Alex and the scowl he'd be sending her way for the drink on her breath and abruptly she stands, shoving the bottle aside onto her desk. "I wonder if your boys would be up for settling that fun little bet we have going."

Adrienne blinks up at her. "Now?"

"Now."

The Frenchwoman eyes the bottle on the desk, then Emily, and then shrugs. "Alright, _Capitaine_. Lead the way."

* * *

><p>The sun has fully set. The stars above twinkle merrily as a crescent moon beams down at the crew of the <em>Sea's Queen<em>. Though having no wind in the sails is a worrying thing to say the least, the stillness that the day had brought means the waters beneath them reflect the skies above with a picturesque beauty. The atmosphere on deck is calm and pleasant as the men enjoy their rum and strike up a tune with battered but well-played instruments.

Joshy is seated beside Miss Gibbs, who looks rather proud as she watches him stare down the man across from him. It's one of Captain LaBelle's crew, not particularly tall, but well muscled and in that way at least three times the size of the ten year old across from him. But Joshy is far from intimidated. He can beat his sister at this game on a good day, so he's hoping to give the brute at least a little trouble.

By rights, he should be in bed by now. His sister worries about him even more than Miss Gibbs, he thinks, maybe, because his mother had always been so ill. Whatever the reason, she is usually very strict about making sure he gets enough rest. But tonight she'd retreated below decks, and Miss Gibbs had agreed to allow him to stay up. (Possibly because of the pout he'd given her, possibly because she'd been well into her double ration of rum by the time he'd asked…probably because of the two put together.)

Emmy also wouldn't be particularly happy that he is playing with anyone but her – actually gambling – as she still seems intent on trying to keep him something close to honest. He tries to pretend it is working, if only because she sometimes seems so much less happy without Alex (the traitorous, lying codfish, he thinks, even if Emmy would scold him for it). Joshy will do anything if it means her brightening up when sad, even just a little.

"Par Dieu. Just look at this boy." The man across from him says, clearly amused, and his friends break into good-natured laughter. The man eyes Joshy up, holding back a smile. "You are quite good, I must admit. I cannot read you."

"You should try playing my sister." Joshy replies, and breaks into a mischievous grin. "Do you fold, then?"

The man looks down to study his cards a moment and then makes as if to reply – but his eyes trail over to something past Joshy before any words leave his mouth. The activity on deck quiets a fraction, and Joshy turns to find his sister has emerged from below decks with Captain LaBelle in tow.

Emmy is making a beeline straight for him. His eyes widen as he sets his cards down and jumps down off the crate he's been seated on, expecting a scolding. She looks to be in a good enough mood. Maybe she won't be too hard on him.

"Giving our new mates a run for their money?" She says, hand on her hip, her expression unreadable.

He blushes a bit, but holds his head up, proud. "Aye, Captain, I think I am."

She struts up to the barrel serving as a small table and snatches up his cards before eyeing those sitting face-up on the barrel and the coins placed in the middle. Then she studies the man, and breaks into a grin as she hands Joshy his cards and leans down so she's at his level. "Up the bet."

"Are you sure?" He asks, a little uncertain.

She nods and gestures for him to take his seat again. He does, and proceeds to do as she'd suggested.

A moment passes. The man across from him raises his eyebrows, glancing at Emmy…and sets his own cards down face up, surrendering with a sigh, throwing his hands up. Joshy beams up at his sister and collects the money before him. Emmy ruffles his hair before turning to address all the men on deck. "Gents, your attention? As I'm sure you know by now, Adrienne and I have a bit of a wager going. I may have mentioned thinking I was good enough with a sword," she pats the hilt of the blade at her hip, "to beat her men. She's interested to see how true this might be," Emmy turns to Captain LaBelle's men, grouped near the brute Joshy was just playing, "and seems to think you'd enjoy the challenge." Joshy watches, feeling worried now though he isn't sure why, as his sister brandishes her sword and tosses it into the air, performing a bit of a trick. "Any takers?" She's using her left hand. Joshy's worry grows. She's been drinking, as have the rest of the men, _and _she's using her left hand?

The man Joshy had been up against in the card game gets to his feet readily. "It would be a pleasure, Capitaine. Your men seem to agree with you and I would enjoy proving them quite wrong." But he is smiling, and Joshy relaxes a bit as his sister returns it with the grin of the devil's daughter.

It's all in good fun, of course, and the only person Joshy knows more skilled with a blade is his papa. And, well, their uncle Jack.

The man draws his own sword, facing Emmy, and neither seems too intent on making the first real move. The deck is silent. They circle each other a bit. His sister smirks, _that _smirk, the playful one that means whoever she's smirking at may be in trouble. In this case, she's taunting her opponent with it, using strategy her papa had passed down to her – and that she had recently passed down to Joshy.

_Make your opponent come to you._

And he does. The brute shoots forward, and their swords clash, Emmy parrying the man's attacks with ease, though it's doubtful he's using his full strength. Joshy didn't know she'd gotten so good with her left hand. The pair seem to have been testing each other; at once, they both back off, and his sister twirls her sword, mischief in her eyes. Another moment passes, and finally the brute makes his move. It instantly becomes clear how this will go when his sister dances out of the way, swiping his blade away with her own so he stumbles forward a bit. He's big and strong. She's light and fast.

_Strength and speed are both their own excellent advantages._ He hears their papa this time._ It's just a matter of playing to the one you have in abundance._

The men who'd been playing earlier strike up a lively tune again.

Emmy dances when she fights. Even with her bad leg, there are few more graceful than she when on the deck of a ship with a blade in her hand. And, though Joshy still worries, it is obvious she knows very well she won't win this by facing her opponent head on. She twirls around him, dances just out of his reach, meets his blade with her own only when she must – and her opponent grows frustrated. Putting all his considerably might into a single lunge, he vaults forward with no skill involved, swiping at Emmy's bad leg (at least he's remembering it's only a duel). His sister makes no move to parry the attack, but to Joshy's eyes this looks oddly deliberate… ah. She falls to the deck, but is more than prepared for it, and her sword remains firmly in her grasp. Before the brute can think to celebrate a victory, she's holding her sword up to…a certain…rather sensitive…area. Joshy laughs quietly, and it's childish, but he is a child, so he figures he's allowed.

"Ahem." She clears her throat, theatrical. The brute looks down, and his eyes widen. She smirks. "Touché?"

"Indeed, Capitaine." He looks defeated but impressed as he helps her up.

The _Queen's _crew cheers. Emmy rolls her shoulders, grinning again. "Come on, then! Who's next?" She calls in her smooth alto, boisterous.

But the worry won't leave Joshy. To spite the playful atmosphere, he's just got this feeling something bad is about to happen. He turns to Miss Gibbs, half hoping to see the same worry reflected on the older woman's face. She's usually the most sensible out of everyone on the ship – but not tonight, apparently. She's cheering with the rest of the crew, eyes dancing with amusement. Well. _Usually _doesn't mean all the time. Joshy just sighs, and watches as another of Captain LaBelle's crew goes to face his sister.

She finishes him off even quicker than she did the first man.

As the third steps up to the challenge, Joshy spies Captain LaBelle off in a corner, leaning against the steps that lead up to the helm. With her men losing so quick and easy, one would think she'd look unhappy. She doesn't. She just watches, her blue eyes cold and calculating and decidedly more sober than the others', even though there's a bottle clutched in her one hand. Her other plays with a bit of gold dangling from her neck. What a strange symbol…

Emmy pauses after her third opponent, catching her breath. She struts over to Captain LaBelle, already beginning to gloat as she snatches the bottle and drinks. Captain LaBelle looks smug, though Emmy doesn't seem to notice. Oh, Joshy hates it when she gets like this! The feeling that something is coming grows stronger. He wrings his hands as a fourth man faces down his sister.

This one knows what he's doing, at least more so than the others. This becomes clear to Joshy the moment he first brings up his sword. Emmy tries to dart around him as she did the others, but he's having none of it. He backs her up towards the rail as men clear out of the way, and Emmy has less and less room. She tries to skirt around him, but he comes down hard and fast with his blade, and she's left with no choice but to face him head on.

Their swords clash, above her head. She's thrown back into some barrels, violently, and before she can make another move, the sword of her current opponent is leveled at her neck. Joshy freezes, but no one else seems too concerned. She still has her own sword, and this is _Peg Leg Turner _after all.

It soon becomes apparent why they aren't concerned. Emmy drops her sword as one hand darts out to grab her opponent's wrist. The man is just surprised enough that his grip on his own sword loosens, allowing Emmy to dart forward and grab his shirt, pulling him down to plant her lips on his. He drops his sword. She pushes him away, hard as she can, retrieves her own sword as well as his, and holds both up to his neck, her chest heaving but a grin spreading her lips.

"That-that was some kind of cheat!" The man growls as he glares down at his sword in her tiny hand.

Emmy laughs, as do the _Queen's _crew. "If being a woman and a pretty one is a cheat on its own than I suppose I shouldn't mind it so much, eh?" She tosses up the sword that isn't hers and catches it by the blade, handing it back to the man before her.

At this, Joshy just scowls. His eyes land on Captain LaBelle again, and she still doesn't look too upset. In fact, she looks outright amused now.

"Anyone else want to have a go?" His sister struts back across the deck.

The last of Captain LaBelle's crew don't seem so eager any more.

"You've just beaten my best man." Its Captain LaBelle herself who comes forward, handing off her bottle to the man Emmy's just beaten.

"Well, I'd suppose that settles that, then."

"Mmm, but Capitaine, I have come up with what you should give up if I win."

Emmy looks confused, brows furrowed as the grin still tugs at her lips. "But you've already lost."

Captain LaBelle is grinning now, and it is a cold, malicious grin that sours Joshy's stomach. He really, _really _doesn't like this. He doesn't know why, but the worry grows more urgent. Glancing around, trying to think of someone else who might agree with him and try to reign in his sister (a hard thing to do, when the one who needs reigning in is captain.) Big, frantic green eyes sweep the deck and pause when they take in the somewhat worn remnants of a Navy midshipman's uniform. Riley. The whole ship knows...maybe Emmy would listen to him.

"Have I?" Captain LaBelle brandishes the short sword at her hip, holding it up as her one hand plays with her necklace again. "We did agree on _any _member of my crew, did we not?"

Emmy blinks down at the sword, and is obviously holding back laughter as she replies. "Aye, we did that. Are you sure you want to be doing this?"

Joshy slips quietly over to Riley, who glances at him once, twice. "Something the matter?" They've talked before by now, enough times for the older boy to know when something's wrong.

Captain LaBelle glances back at her men. "Allow me a moment?"

"Of course." Emmy still doesn't seem to note anything terribly wrong.

Joshy hesitates as he faces Riley, trying to decide how to go about this. "Does-doesn't it bother you?"

"Doesn't what bother me?" He asks, absent.

"Emmy. The – the way she flirts sometimes. The kiss just now." Bringing this up so blatantly will be very much pushing it, and Joshy knows it, but sometimes whatever works, works.

Riley glances at him sharply, scowling. "Why would it?" His tone is warning. Actually, it mimics Emmy's Captain-ly warning tone. Just how much time _do _those two spend together?

More and more lately he thinks his mother really had been right about…but oh, now is not the time for that. "You know why. It – it's not as if the whole ship doesn't know, since Alex abandoned her…" Joshy breaks off with a gasp as two larger hands grip his shirt and he's near lifted off his feet. Well. Touchier subject than he thought, then.

"Learn when to watch your tongue!" Riley snaps, but aggression like this isn't much his way, and he releases Joshy. "By the old gods, if you were so cheeky with another man, or your sister herself with the moods she gets in…"

"I'm right, though. It does bother you."

Riley scowls again, and shakes his head. "Peg is – Peg. She'll do what she wants if I make a fuss over it or not. I'm better off not making a fuss at all." Another pause, and he goes on, trying to be gruffer. "Not saying I'd care enough to."

"But – but _Riley_…"

The older boy pauses and studies Joshy a moment, brows furrowed. "Joshy, spit it out. What's the matter?"

"I don't _know_." Joshy bursts, a little louder than he intends, causing Riley to hush him, though no one appears to have noticed. "She's just – she's using her left hand, and Captain LaBelle's too confident, don't you see? Something's not right about this!"

Riley opens his mouth to snap a reply, but shuts it again in the next moment, suggesting Joshy's got him thinking. He turns back to watch Emmy as Captain LaBelle struts back out to face the other captain. She's discarded her coat and hat, and Emmy eyes her up.

"You're serious, aren't you? Alright. What do I give up if, by some chance, I lose?"

Captain LaBelle looks around, her piercing, dark blue eyes sweeping over the men gathered close. "You're ship."

Silence. Long and deafening as all eyes land on Emmy, whose smirk has faded into surprise and bewilderment.

"Told you!" Joshy hisses at Riley.

The older boy sends a half-glare back at him before pushing forward. "Captain –."

His voice is drowned out by the sound of Emmy bursting into peals of laughter, though the _Queen_'s crew is uneasy now. "You're not serious!"

Captain LaBelle doesn't bat an eyelash. "Bear in mind, Capitaine, I have my own ship, and once it is again in my possession I would hardly know what to do with a second." Her tone is placating. "All in good fun, no? I only meant for you to give me a chance to prove myself, as you seem to think my being a capitaine as well something of a joke."

Emmy shakes her head. "Why even suggest it? You know you won't win!"

Captain LaBelle throws her shoulders back, haughty. "Why not humor me, if you are so convinced I will not win?"

Emmy still looks amused as she studies the other woman. Riley shoots forward again. "Captain, it's late and you've gone through four other fights, perhaps you should hold off on…"

She glances back at him, her eyes hardening. "I wonder, Mister Connelly, to whose defense are you trying to come?"

Joshy scowls. Is his sister so easily made jealous, even with the way she flirts now? He's only ten and _he's _beginning to think there's something wrong with the woman's head. He again curses Alex Sparrow. Emmy's only gotten worse since he left. When she isn't sulking, it seems, she's actively looking for all the wrong kinds of trouble to occupy herself with and Joshy seems the only one who's any kind of willing to saying something about it. Except for their Papa, but he'd stayed behind at Shipwreck, and Joshy curses him too (half-hearted. He'd never mean it with his papa.) (And gods, what an earful his sister would give him if she heard some of the things he thinks.)

Riley meets her glare head on, matching its intensity with one of his own. The deck grows silent again as the two stare each other down; Joshy hadn't been exaggerating when he said that they _all _know about those two. Riley finally throws up his hands. "If you want to lose your own ship on a drunken bet, than by all means." He gestures for her to continue.

"I don't intend to lose anything." She replies, drawing her sword again as she turns back to Captain LaBelle. "You're on, _Capitaine_."

Captain LaBelle picks up the necklace now and kisses the strange medallion. Emmy gives her sword a bit of a twirl. Captain LaBelle hangs back, poised to defend but not attack. Dark blue orbs meet honey brown ones, and Captain LaBelle is the one smirking this time, looking confident. Too confident. Joshy shoots forward, coming up beside Riley. "Emmy!"

But it's too late. Annoyed by Captain LaBelle's calm, his sister shoots forward first. Their swords clash, and the dance begins again. It instantly becomes apparent that this fight will not be so easy to win. Emmy doesn't have the advantage here of being lighter. In fact, Captain LaBelle is smaller than her, and Emmy's been at this with four other men now. Joshy relaxes just the slightest fraction at first, though. Captain LaBelle is nothing compared to Emmy where skill is concerned. In fact, in the beginning, she couldn't even match up to her own men where skill is concerned.

In the beginning.

Riley is the only one who notices it, possibly because he's dealt with magic before and so has an eye for such things. The older boy curses, drawing Joshy's attention. "What is it?" He asks.

"That necklace, around Cap'n LaBelle's neck. Can't you see it?"

Joshy tries to focus in on the medallion even as the Frenchwoman keeps moving. "See what?"

"It's glowing."

"Glowing? What does that mean?"

Riley doesn't answer. Joshy starts keeping a closer eye on his sister, but in doing so its Captain LaBelle his attention is drawn to. Her stance, the way she moves – it's not as sloppy anymore. In fact, it's beginning to look as though she's mimicking Emmy, quite directly.

Their swords clash again, and Captain LaBelle does something that near sends Joshy into a full panic. He knows that move. He'd watched his sister perform it, and their father, but he'd never seen anyone else master it, not that exact way. It's a special disarming move that Emmy hadn't even tried to teach him yet. And it _works. _Emmy's sword goes flying across the deck and Captain LaBelle's sword flies up in what could be an accident (Joshy does not, even for a moment, believe that it is.)

Silence. Quiet so complete one could hear a pin drop. Emmy looks shocked, her hand shooting up to feel her cheek just beneath her eye and recoiling as she hisses in pain. She brings her fingers back, the tips covered in blood, and stares in shock. There's a cut starting just below one of her eyes, pointing up towards her temple, bleeding enough already to suggest its deep – and will scar, even on the off chance Emmy will allow Miss Gibbs to heal it with a bit of magic (not that she's likely to).

Captain LaBelle smirks. "Et maintenant nous sommes encore." She says in French. Joshy doesn't know what it means, but Emmy's eyes slowly narrow into a glare. Captain LaBelle gestures to her sword. "We did agree you could switch hands if necessary. By all means, Capitaine."

Emmy stalks over, picks up her sword without a trace of her earlier bravado, and charges Captain LaBelle head on. Captain LaBelle, in a strange switch, gives her own sword a skillful twirl before meeting Emmy's blade with ease. The panic slips away; there's no more need for it. It's over already, and Joshy knows it now. Emmy's attacks are as sloppy and shaky as Captain LaBelle's had been in the beginning. In fact, they are so sloppy that the Frenchwoman looks amused again, and dances around the way Emmy had been earlier, playful.

When she tires of it, she backs Emmy up towards the rail of the ship. The _Queen_'s crew parts, silent, eyes wide as they watch. Emmy tries to get around the Frenchwoman, but it's no use. Soon she's cornered. Captain LaBelle comes down with her sword, once, twice, darts forward in that disarming move again. Emmy's sword goes flying once more; his sister is left defenseless, backed against the rail with chest heaving as she glares so hard and cold Hell might be freezing over.

Captain LaBelle holds her sword up to Emmy's neck. "Je crois que vous venez de perdre, le capitaine." She says. "Now, about our little bet."

* * *

><p><em><strong>And…now the fun begins. :)<strong>_

_**French:  
>…cela n'a aucun sens. – …that makes no sense.<br>Par Dieu. – By God.  
>Et maintenant nous sommes encore. – And now we're even.<br>Je crois que vous venez de perdre, le capitaine. – I believe you just lost, Captain.**_


	72. Meanwhile 4: Maybe Mutiny

_**Oh, hey! A new chapter! And right about on time for me! I've been busy. I promise, this is more a feat than it sounds.**_

_**Anyway. On with the story…**_

* * *

><p>She keeps calm. How she does so is anyone's guess, but she keeps perfectly calm as she sheathes her sword, glances around, slips past Adrienne. She makes the trek across the deck and down the short flight of steps and then down the corridor, calm as can be. Even when she finally makes it to the relative safety of her cabin, she tries to keep her cool.<p>

Logic. Think, Peg, she tells herself.

Adrienne won. How did she win? It's possible she'd gotten better with a sword, had simply had time to practice, but even still, she hadn't been at it as long as Emily. And she'd been sloppy at first, even more so than her men. But then she'd… Emily stalks over to the mirror hung on the wall and glares at her own reflection as she inspects the cut on her cheek. The area is swollen and bloodied, and the cut is long and deep. She'd given Emily _that_, and then she'd _won_.

And what can Emily do now? They made a bet, Emily lost, and her men are already beginning to worry of how well she's fairing as their captain of late. If she goes back on the whole thing now, she'll just be a liar and all the worse off for it.

Her fists clench as a familiar pressure tries to build in her gut. Goddess, and just when she'd been thinking she and Adrienne might manage something like friends…

"Emmy." A voice calls quietly, startling her. She whirls around – a little too quick. She ends up stumbling back a step, the rum and shock of losing added onto the pain of a nasty cut proving to be a bad combination.

Thankfully, it's only her brother come to check on her. She'd been expecting Adrienne to follow her down.

Joshy darts forward, brows furrowed and eyes wide in worry. "Come on." He says, quiet, taking her hand. He pulls her over to the window seat, gentle but persistent, and urges her to sit. She does, and watches as he opens a drawer of her desk and removes some cloth she keeps there for occasions like this one, as well as a bottle of cheap rum to help clean the wound. Then he climbs up to sit next to her, wetting the cloth with the rum. "Ready?" He asks, knowing she's aware it will hurt. She doesn't look at him, just closes her eyes and shakes her head. He sighs, sounding too grown up for a boy of just ten, and begins dabbing at the wound anyway. She winces, hissing in pain, and pulls away with a scowl. "Don't." He demands, sounding angry now. "This is just what you get."

The world slows down a moment as she remembers – being about Joshy's age and cleaning up her father after a bad night at a tavern. Their papa had never been one to pick fights, and rarely got into them, but it did happen on occasion, and she remembers cleaning a cut, him scowling at her and pulling away… _"Papa!" _She'd exclaimed, frustrated. _"Stop it. It's just what you get, you know."_

The eerie feeling of déjà vu has her stomach turning. Her hands shoot up to still Joshy's just as footsteps can be heard down the hallway, and sure enough, Adrienne appears in the doorway.

"Capitaine."

Emily glares and shoots to her feet…or, well, attempts to. Joshy pulls at her arm, again gentle but insistent as he sends a wary glance in Adrienne's direction. "Just let me…"

"Joshy…" She cuts him off, sharp at first, but she forces her tone to be more gentle. "What say you go get Miss Gibbs for me? She'll put me to rights. You should be going off to bed." He bites his lip, but nods, and heads out of the room. He sends one last wary glance up at Adrienne as he goes, and Emily waits until she can no longer hear him before shooting to her feet. "You've been planning this from the moment you found me locked up in that cell you – you miserable, scheming gargoyle!"

Adrienne plants a hand on her hip, eyebrows raised. "How could I have? I did not even know your ship would come for you!"

"I don't -," Emily scowls, shaking her head, "I don't know. But when you found me – you knew about my memory. You guessed I didn't know where I was."

"Perhaps you just looked lost." Adrienne replies, feigning innocence.

"Stop," Emily's hand inches towards her pistol; she forces herself to cross her arms instead, "stop _lying_. How did you cheat just now?"

Now the Frenchwoman looks indignant. "I did not _cheat_."

"You must've! You barely knew what you were doing, and then suddenly you were good enough to rival my papa!" A smirk plays at Adrienne lips as her hand slips up to play with the medallion around her neck again. Emily shoots forward and snatches the necklace up herself; Adrienne cries out softly as she's jerked forward. Emily sends a small jolt of magic down through her fingers to encompass the medallion in her hand, watching the bit of gold begin to glow in turn. "Magic." She growls, dropping the necklace and watching as Adrienne stumbles back. "I can feel it. What did it do to me?"

Footsteps sound down the hall again before Adrienne can answer, and Jo stalks into the room without bothering to knock, not that she ever does. She sends a death glare in Adrienne's direction, but slips right past her. "Sit." She tells Emily without preamble.

Emily does as she's told, if for no other reason than because both she and Jo end up miserable when at odds with each other, so they generally try not to end up at odds. The older woman comes to sit next to her and inspects her cheek, dabbing at it with the cloth Joshy had used. Emily winces but stays put.

"It'll scar. Nothing to be done about that. Might be able to make a neater job of it with a bit of magic, though."

Sighing, Emily shakes her head. Magic of any kind often comes with a price. Usually, it's a pretty direct one. With healing, the price is that the process takes time compared to other things done with magic. It's also painful, and draining for whoever's doing the healing. Besides, Emily still hates using magic and doesn't, generally, unless Jo deems it very necessary.

Jo huffs. "Well, you'll have to let me clean it up then."

Emily doesn't answer, pausing as she returns her attention to Adrienne. "Magic counts as cheating."

The Frenchwoman has wandered across the room and is looking over the books on Emily's shelves. She turns lazily, rolling her eyes. "I suspect you only say that because you lost."

"I wouldn't have lost if…what does it do? That necklace?" She demands.

"It ensures that I win." Adrienne replies simply, crossing her arms. "Usually. Easily, in your case."

Emily studies the Frenchwoman. "You _were_ planning this all along."

Adrienne raises her brows, cool as ever. "Planning what, exactly, Capitaine? I simply ask that you allow me the chance to earn some respect, properly."

Emily glances at Jo, who looks uneasy as she watches them converse, but says nothing. "Fine." Jo's eyes widen, and she opens her mouth, but Emily holds up a hand, silencing her. "But I have conditions."

"Of course." Adrienne gives her this.

"First, you tell me whatever it is you haven't told me. I want to know exactly what's going on, and I know you know more." Adrienne nods. Emily goes on. "Second, you play nice with Jo. I did beat your men, after all. I hadn't expected to go against you."

"Of course, Capitaine." Adrienne concedes, nothing if not amiable.

Another pause. Emily's mind is a whirlwind of jumbled thoughts. What is she thinking here? She can't actually give this to Adrienne. Though, she did say it's all in good fun, she just wants to prove herself. But there's something wrong about all of this. Emily's crew have been faithful to her, loyal even at times she wouldn't have expected it, and yet none of them made a move to help her. Nor did they act any sort of bothered when Adrienne announced her end of the wager. Well, except for Riley, and her brother. Why just those two?

Emily's missing memories. What Jo had told her about the crew. Adrienne and her medallion. It's a puzzle to which she's missing pieces and she doesn't like it but nothing in Adrienne's demeanor is at all hostile, so Emily decides her best bet is to just go with it until she can get some actual answers.

"S'ppose…" She grumbles. It's painful to think, let alone say. "That title belongs to you for now." Gods above, had she just said that?

The triumphant grin that spreads Adrienne's lips is – disturbing. "Ah, and with that, I'll leave you to rest." And just like that, she is gone.

Emily stares at her doorway as the Frenchwoman disappears. After a moment, she huffs. "Oh, just come in already."

Riley comes to lean in the doorway, arms crossed. "I like her." Obviously referring to Adrienne.

Emily glares.

Jo picks up the rag, soaks it further with rum, and begins dabbing at Emily's cheek, vicious now. Emily supposes she deserves it, so just lets her, snatching the bottle from her hands to drink and hopefully quell the pain further. Not that Emily really needs any more rum, but she's half tempted to get good and drunk and really leave Adrienne to her own devices come morning... she smartly sets the bottle aside insead.

"I tried to warn you." Riley again.

"I know."

A pause. He probably wants an apology, but she doesn't do apologies, and he knows it, so all is silent.

"Good as it's going to get." Jo mutters finally, dabbing at Emily's cheek a final time. "We'll have to keep an eye on this one."

"Thanks." Emily replies, sincere.

Jo's got on that scowl-grimace of hers, but nods as she gets to her feet. Fiddling with the cloth in her hands a bit, she glares down at Emily. "I do hope no one expects I'll be calling _her _captain."

Emily half laughs, almost amused. "Miss Gibbs, I do think I'd be well and truly disappointed if you gave in that easily."

Jo just shakes her head before heading back out. Riley crosses the room once she's gone, closing the door behind him. Emily takes another pull from the bottle, sets it aside. Reaches up to undo the scarf holding her hair back, a silent invitation for Riley, who seats himself next to her and then pulls her to sit in his lap as he trails kisses down her neck and shoulder. She leans her head back and snakes a hand up to run through his hair…but he stops, resting his chin on her shoulder. "Your brother knows – well, they all know don't they?"

"About what? Us – this? So what if they do?" She shifts around a bit so she's facing him.

"Doesn't it bother you? That you're brother… he is only ten."

"Nearing eleven now. I was helping to _care _for my brother by the time I was ten, and I was much younger when I first caught my papa with another woman in his arms." That's cold of her, and because it's her brother they are talking about, she instantly regrets being so harsh. She softens. "I love my brother. But my papa and I are all he's got. Of course there were going to be things he'd come to understand too soon. I've – we've both – tried to protect him but it can't be helped." A pause, she runs a hand over Riley's chest, eyes cast downward. "Are you ashamed of me?"

"I think sometimes…" She leans in to trail kisses along his neck. His voice grows a little strained. "Sometimes I think I ought to be ashamed of myself for…" His hands shoot up to still hers. "Emily." She stays close, but glares at him. Even he isn't allowed to call her that anymore, though he sometimes does anyway. He meets the look with his own, steady. "What were you suggesting? When I tried to stop you fighting Captain LaBelle, you asked who's defense I was coming to, what were you suggesting?"

"You know what I was suggesting, don't pretend you don't." She snaps back, getting angry. "Adrienne is – she's pretty and _French_ and her mother was one of their fancy, glorified whores. Spend enough time around her and she'll have you wrapped right 'round her finger just like…" Like she did with Alex. She can't bring herself to say it.

"Just like you do me?" Riley asks, dark.

She brings up a hand and slaps him, though not as hard as she could. The move is made less out of a want to hurt him and more out a need to stop him from crossing into such dangerous territory. He practically shoves her out of his lap and shoots to his feet, looking indignant instead of subdued. "Bloody hell, woman." And she forgets it's been some time now, and he doesn't so much sound a silly boy any more, and why would he? Learning to play her games with her, of course he's grown up.

She glares up at him. "You cheeky bilge rat. By the old gods, one of these days…"

"You'll have me spending a night in the brig? Except you can't now, can you," he says, tone mocking, "you just handed your ship right over to that pretty-French-daughter-of-a-whore whose guts you apparently hate!"

She shoots to her feet, beyond words…and pulls him forward with hands clutching his shirt. She's stronger than she looks. Their lips crash together as she keeps him close, forceful. He could protest. He never does. In fact, she thinks, he must enjoy it somehow, enjoy the way she takes charge. It's how it happened the first time, and he keeps coming back for more.

His hands trail down to fumble with the laces of her corset, until he grows frustrated and reaches for the knife she keeps hidden in it. The bit of leather falls away, and she's too preoccupied to be worried about the laces she'll need to replace. Her shirt joins it, followed promptly by his, and she backs him up to her bed. He slips a hand in her hair and tugs at it, bringing a halt to their fevered kissing as he breathes against her lips.

"I hate you." He near growls, a sound she's never heard from him before. It's coupled with a look he's never given her either, a hardness to his eyes that has her wondering how much he means it.

"Then leave." She challenges, shoulders back and chin held high, because there are rules here of her making and they say she's not really his anyway and there's no reason for her to be hurt by the outburst.

He opens his mouth, lets her go, almost looks like he wants to…but he doesn't, and her hands connect with his chest to push him back onto the bed and then she's crawling over him and…well, he doesn't interrupt her again.

.

She runs a hand through his ginger curls as he sleeps and thinks he looks an angel, so peaceful. She whispers near his ear, _'I'm sorry, love'_, because she'll dream of Alex this night (she always does when there's been rum). She only wishes the words would escape her lips with Riley awake to hear them. As it is, she knows they won't, so instead she curls into him and selfishly enjoys the warmth he provides as she, too, drifts off to sleep.

~-~-~-~  
><em>Present Day, Williamsburg, Colony of Virginia<br>~-~-~-~_

"Alex, my boy! What do you think you're doing?" Mister James booms in his boisterous baritone as he enters the shop, a chilly wind accompanying him and blowing a few colorful leafs across the floor with it.

"S-sir?" Alex stutters a bit, startled enough he wobbles on the ladder he's perched atop, stocking shelves on the wall behind the counter.

"I seem to recall you having a standing engagement with my niece. You'll be late if you don't get a move on!" He scolds, but playful, eyes shining with amusement.

Alex climbs down off the ladder and peeks outside through the front window of the shop. He curses himself quietly when he sees the position the sun has taken up in the partially cloudy fall sky. How could he have forgotten? Imogene has him for tea now, every Wednesday and Sunday afternoon. He finds himself looking forward to it more with each day that passes.

"Well!" Mister James prods. "Didn't your mother ever teach you the dangers of keeping a woman waiting? Get going, boy!"

Alex slips around the counter with due haste, grabbing his coat and the weathered but much finer old hat Mister James had kindly handed down to him. "Right, sir. Aye – I mean, yes sir. On my way – I'll be on my way now." He stumbles over his words, trying to remember what Mister James has taught him of how to speak and conduct himself more like a gentleman. Gods, if he doesn't sound like just a boy. But then, Mister James has a way of making him feel like even more of one than he, perhaps, is. It's – nice, actually. To be allowed to be young.

Mister James opens the door for a woman and her daughter to enter the shop, and waves Alex forward. The woman sends him a smile in greeting, and the girl fairly beams, waving at him. He knows them, of course, if not by name than at least in passing. It would be hard for a shop boy working a general store not to at least have everyone's faces be familiar in a town such as this. He nods in greeting, tipping his hat. "Good afternoon, ladies." He slips past them in a few long strides and then he is out the door.

The air isn't so cold for this time of year, or so Mister James has told him, but for Alex it is almost biting already. He's beginning to wish he had that horse he and Emily had talked about. He's not used to these temperatures, and dreads the coming months as winter looms ever closer. Perhaps he'd best start thinking of investing in a thicker coat.

Emily. He falters in his determined strides as thoughts of her pervade his mind once again. Nine long months it's been, and still he cannot seem to forget her as he thinks he should. Certainly, as he wishes to by now. Something about this is beginning to make him feel guilty. And that something, though it's almost too much for him to admit to himself, might have a lot to do with Miss Imogene Ellsworth.

She and her mother have both been good to him, too good. The longer this goes on, the closer he gets to Imogene, the more he starts to think of what Laurel Norrington had told him the day he and the Ellsworth's had left Port Royal. Things are a little different here. People seem a touch more forgiving, and he's beginning to think that maybe…just maybe…Miss Norrington hadn't been wrong. But then, that brings him back to feeling guilty. If he's ever going to even come close to being worthy of sweet, pretty, delicate little Imogene, he can't still be thinking of his old life. He has to leave all that behind.

He _has_ to leave _Emily _behind.

And why can't he? He doesn't doubt she's already moved well on from him. In fact, knowing her, she's probably enjoying herself all the more without him there to worry over her. By the time he'd left, he'd really just been driving her up the wall, he was sure of it. And hadn't half the battle between them been because of his…affinity…for women who weren't…

More guilt. He can't keep doing this. He loved Emily. He may never stop, but Emily had loved him and fallen for Riley, so why can't he do the same with Miss Ellsworth?

'_Cause just look what Emily did to Riley. _

He scolds himself. He won't think that way. He'd left. Is worlds away now with his whole life ahead of him and he would never, ever, do anything to hurt Miss Ellsworth.

"Alex!"

Her voice carries on the wind, whispers at his ears. He blinks out of his reverie and realizes – he's at the gate to the Ellsworth's estate. A few beautiful acres of farm land dotted with trees that are now turning all sorts of lovely, vibrant colors, spread out before him with an iron gate the only thing between him and it. The walk to get here is tedious long, but worth it always for the view – and more than worth it for her.

There's a stretch of road leading up to the house itself. Imogene is stood on the porch, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders as wayward strands of her light brown curls blow in the autumn breeze. She is waving him forward, perhaps with a touch more excitement than a young lady ought to express, but he certainly won't be the one to complain. He smiles as he pushes forward, his mind put at ease by the mere sight of her. Yes, he thinks, he would never forgive himself if she were harmed in some way. And for certain, he'd rather die than be the cause of that harm himself.

Emily herself had lamented not a few times that she seemed to do nothing better than ruin anything good. On this lovely fall day, for no particular reason other than because the decision had to be come to at some point, Alex decides it's high time he stopped letting her ruin anything for him.

~-~-~-~  
><em>Present Day, the <em>Sea's Queen  
>~-~-~-~<p>

Emily leaves Riley early the next morning, appearing above decks just as the sun is beginning to brighten the horizon. She's still not convinced that Adrienne would know the first thing about captaining a ship, but wants to be sure of what she's up against.

"Winds picking up again." She observes as the Frenchwoman comes up to greet her.

"So it would appear." She looks Emily over. "I wouldn't have expected to see you so early after a night like the last, I must admit."

Emily shrugs, nonchalant as she brings up a shiny red apple she'd slipped down to the galley to snatch. "I've had rougher nights."

Adrienne eyes her as she munches on the apple. "Hm. That would not surprise me either."

"Besides, I'm rather looking forward to watching you try and wake the boys below."

"You do not think they will listen?"

Emily snorts. "I'm not sure I've ever heard you shout loud enough to make them."

Adrienne just glares, and then spins on her heal, heading towards the deck housing the crew. Emily follows and leans in the doorway, biting into her apple again. She watches with amusement as Adrienne surveys the motley, snoring bunch of men – well, mostly men, and then her brother and the cabin boy off in the corner. Adrienne pauses, glances back at her, smirks, and then stalks further into the room. Emily shakes her head and brings the apple up again…

"Wake up you lazy, drunken ingrates!" Adrienne shouts, her voice so shrill it surpasses Ana's and is enough to have even Emily wincing. "Bougez! Allons-y! Now, come on, there's wind in the sails again and work to be done! Up!"

Emily watches, eyes wide, as her men scramble all at once to do as they're told. Even Joshy and the cabin boy, often the hardest to wake, are up and scrambling out of their hammocks already. Emily's not sure she's ever managed that so quick.

As they slip past her on their way above decks, Adrienne turns with one hand on her hip, vague amusement coloring her expression as she eyes up Emily and the apple which never quite made it to her mouth again. Emily starts a bit, glancing at her men as they pass her right up. Joshy doesn't even stop to say a quick good morning. Sending a scowl in Adrienne's direction, Emily finally takes another bite out of the apple before stalking after them.

…

"You were the one fool enough to make the bet." Jo tells her later that day, annoyed by Emily's sulking.

They're in her cabin. Emily had spent the entire morning hovering over Adrienne's shoulder, hoping she'd somehow prove inadequate, but the longer she watched the Frenchwoman, the more she was forced to admit she did, sort of, maybe…know what she was doing. Just…maybe.

"Oh – well – where were _you_ last night, then, eh?" Emily replies, irritable. "Used to be you were the _first _in line to tell me if I were being stupid. And come on, I can't be the only one who wasn't even remotely expecting she'd _win_."

"Well, as often as you've been having those moments, I can scarce keep up anymore. I didn't know she'd win, but I daresay it's just what you get." The older woman is checking the cut on Emily's cheek, cleaning it again and trying to find a way to work a bandage over it.

Emily hisses as she dabs the cut with a rum-soaked cloth again, and glances at the older woman. Something in Jo's tone of voice… Coupled with the way Joshy had said it the night before… "What's that supposed to mean?"

There's a pause. The older woman scowls as she continues to work at Emily's cheek. "Forget it." She replies finally, setting the rag aside and getting up as if to leave.

"What – no!" Emily grabs the Jo's arm, pulling her back, demanding. "You – you agree with the crew, then?"

Jo's hand snakes up to bury itself in her raven curls as that scowl-grimace contorts her features. "Well, I…"

"Jo! Gods above, what is going on around here? I'm beginning to think I've just fell victim to the strangest mutiny I've ever heard of, and I think I'd almost feel better about it if Adrienne had dumped me on an island somewhere, at least then I'd have the consolation of the knowledge I was something of a threat!"

"Well – what do you expect?" Jo replies, with a vehemence that startles Emily. "First there were those few weeks after Alex left, and then the battle a few months after that where you were shot and – do you know, some of the boys, they thought you were drunk that night too, the way you lead us in even when two ships emerged out of the fog instead of just one."

Emily almost laughs outright for all this is so ridiculous. "I wasn't." She says, no vehemence or venom, just stating a fact. "And we _won _that battle, and their cargo got us such a shiny penny I didn't hear anyone complaining. Until now, apparently."

Jo shakes her head. "And then – the night you were captured."

A pause, Emily runs a hand through her hair. "What about the night I was captured?"

"You don't remember."

"No, I told you, it's all a blank."

"Three weeks easy, it was, before I got your letter." The older woman plows on. "Where were you in all that time?"

"I don't _know_. I can't remember anything, except for the dream I told you about."

"Except that doesn't add up either!" Jo bursts. "You've got magic. I've seen what you can do and I've been reading – do you know, there's not been a sorceress so powerful for over a century?"

"I _hate _using my magic. You know that."

"Enough that you wouldn't, even being in real trouble?"

"Jo, I don't even know what the hell you're suggesting anymore."

"I'm suggesting…well." The older woman sighs. "I'm not the only one thinking it, understand, just the only one brave enough to say it. I'm suggesting – we heard no word of you. None, for a few weeks. If someone had caught _you_, with the price the Admiral's got on your head, you'd be quite a prize. They'd be lining up to show off."

"So that's it, then. You think I disappeared. Deliberately?" Jo huffs, avoids Emily's eyes, and crosses her arms. Emily snorts, incredulous. "That is the stupidest theory I've ever heard! Why would I have?"

"The Admiral's ships…" Jo trails off a moment, then throws her shoulders back, hands planted on her hips now. "They've begun to pull out of Caribbean waters. Quick enough that everyone's noticed."

Emily blinks up at her as she processes this and tries to figure where the connection could possibly be – and then she realizes what Jo might mean and she laughs. Outright guffaws, because – _no_. "So, let me get this straight. You – you think I, what? Got captured, was going to, possibly, be sold off as some strange, perverted sort of slave, and got desperate enough…how would that even have gone? Me, begging my captors to turn me in to the Admiral so I could make a deal with him? Me – _begging_? For a deal with _him._" She continues to laugh, but it dies out as she realizes Jo's quite serious.

"You don't remember." She points out, as if Emily needs reminding. "And you were in Port Royal. Everyone knows the Admiral's bought up an estate there."

"And it's _my _sanity you've all been worried about of late? I feel the need to inform you that _Riley's_ now the only one left with any sense 'round here, and that should really put you all to shame." She gets up and slips past Jo to snatch up the bottle – the same one from the night before, incidentally. She drinks, and curses the burn of the liquor. It tells her that this isn't some strange dream.

"I'd wager he agrees with the rest of us," Jo grumbles, "but close as you two've got, of course he'd never let on."

Emily slams the bottle back onto the desk and whirls around, fists clenched hard. "Miss Gibbs." Her alto dips down to a half growl. "Here's a promise for you. _When_ I get the chance again, I'll keel haul every gods-damned one of you for this – starting with you!"

For a moment they just stare at each other, hurt and indignation reflected in both their eyes. "The way things are going now, I doubt I'll have anything to worry about." The older woman replies evenly, and then spins on her heel, storming out of Emily's cabin.

Emily watches her go and collapses back into her desk chair, reaching for the bottle again as she does, though all she does now is stare down at it blankly.

_So much for sisters._

_Alright, Peg, clever girl. We don't even have Jo on our side. How are we to get ourselves out of _this _one?_

* * *

><p><em><strong>Reviews would be nice, but as always, I'm just glad you're still reading. :)<strong>_

_**French:  
>Bougez! – Get moving!<br>Allons-y! – Let's go!**_


	73. Meanwhile 5: The Scheme

This is all wrong. She still isn't certain what the Frenchwoman is playing at, but it's all just – _wrong_.

Adrienne is nothing if not accommodating, but any modesty she offers is falser than even Emily's usual, and smiles when she gives them are – disturbing. That's the best Emily can come up with to describe them. Not forced, but cold and unnerving. Emily follows her around, watching her close for some days, trying to figure the Frenchwoman out, but this only serves to leave Emily feeling worse. Adrienne _really _knows what she's doing. And it doesn't help that for the first time since she'd made friends with the older woman, Jo doesn't have Emily's back. In fact, she's turned a cold shoulder to Emily in a way that isn't like Jo at all. And what's even worse, the rest of the crew is hovering on the border of outright hostile.

But Adrienne never once gives any hint of being threatening. Though, really, she doesn't need to. The rest of the ship does that for her, all too well.

Emily worries, at intervals, that even her brother is in on – whatever is going on, but then he comes one night and asks her to sing to him. The way he curls into her and looks worried and asks to sleep in her cabin with her suggests he knows something's not right, which means any odd behavior on his end could just equate to worry. She doesn't know this for certain, but the thought eases her worries at least a little.

* * *

><p>"Riley." She murmurs one evening, curled up in the window seat with him. "Riley, tell me…"<p>

He waits a moment, then runs a hand through her brunette waves. "What is it?"

She thinks about turning to face him proper for this, but doesn't have the guts. "You told me, some nights ago… you said you hate me."

He tenses. She's startled him a little. A brief moment and he relaxes again, continues playing with her hair. "Sometimes…I think I do." He replies, and she's not sure whether to be thankful for his usual honesty. "In a way, at least, but that's not what you're worried about, so I'll tell you what you want to hear. _You _are my captain. Long as I'm on this ship, I'll be loyal to you."

"You loved me, once." She counters, airy. "Suppose… I ruined it. I'm good at that. Ruining things. Maybe…"

"I'm not sure what this is we have now, and I'm not going to talk about _that_." He doesn't sound angry. Just a little wary, maybe. "But I'm yours. I promise, I'm yours in whatever way you need me to be."

"Need you." She wants to be indignant, because _needing _sounds – she doesn't like _needing_. "I didn't say I needed anything." But there's no venom behind the words.

He sighs, presses a kiss into her hair. "Alright. I'm here, anyway." A bit of anger does seep into his voice now. "Have I given you reason to doubt me?"

She pauses, turns to him, the panic that wells up irrational but she can't help it. She can't. She can't have him angry at her. Not when she doesn't even have Jo. "No – Riley – I didn't – it's just, she's got everyone… I'm getting paranoid." She runs a shaky hand through her hair. "Please. It's not - not you."

He softens again in an instant, pulling her close and shushing her. "Gods above." He breathes, and it amuses her, usually, the things he's picked up from her. Looks. Tones of voice. Phrases. "I've… I've seen you hurt and drunk and outraged and I've even seen you go so cold I wasn't sure it was the same woman I was standing beside, but never in the year I've known you have I seen you…"

"What?" She asks, half burying her face into his shirt.

"Frightened. I've never seen you look so afraid." He pushes her away gently to look at her, one hand coming up to cup her cheek. "I've been wondering why you haven't done or said anything, tried to fight back. I'm sorry, I didn't realize…"

She clutches at his shirt, and shakes her head slow. "Afraid." Her brows furrow. Afraid. Peg Leg Turner doesn't do afraid. She shoots to her feet and begins pacing. "You're right. I should've done something by now, I should've… but I just don't understand. Why did they all suddenly decide… It's her." She stops abruptly, comes to a halt standing just before Riley. "It's _her_. I don't know how, but it's all her doing and it's got something to do with that necklace, I know it does."

"The bit of gold around her neck?" Riley looks confused. "I know it must've had something to do with you losing that silly fight, but beyond that…"

"No. I may not know what it does, but it's done something to them all, even Jo. I mean, what did I do? Tell me, Riley, what could I possibly have done to have her being so _cold_ to me?"

"I don't know. I don't know any more than you. But if you're right, how come Joshy and I haven't been effected?"

"Well, I don't know about Joshy. I don't even know for certain he isn't affected, but you – I put you under that spell. Maybe you've got a tolerance for magic now. Maybe my goddess gave you a resistance to it, I don't know." A pause as she comes to sit on the window seat again, thinking. "You came to get me. I sent that letter out and you came straight away, to Port Royal of all places, so there wasn't anything wrong before then."

Riley shakes his head, confirming. "No, not that I knew of. In fact, we were all more than a little relieved to know you were alright."

"So it's _got _to be Adrienne, that slimy, two-faced…" Emily shoots to her feet again, this time stalking straight across her cabin and out the door.

"Wait – Peg!" Riley jogs after her. "Where are you going?"

"She promised me answers. That was the deal. I let her have my ship without a fuss and in return she gives me answers and I don't know what possessed me to actually do it, not that it would've mattered I suspect, but I haven't even got my answers and I'm done." She storms out above decks, stalks past with such an air about her that the few left to man the ship stay out of her way. She's headed down to the galley. That's where Adrienne will be, along with most of the men as its supper time, but Emily's had it already. Whatever else she may be, she is _not _a coward.

Riley stops her just before she slips back below decks, pulling her aside with force. "Going down there to confront her like this would be like – like poking a bee's nest. Do you _want _to be thrown in the brig? Or worse, what if she finds an island and maroons you?"

Emily shakes her head, frustrated. "Do you have a better idea? Because I don't. Not this time."

"I don't… I don't know. Look. I've – I've talked to Miss LaBelle." He doesn't call her captain. Emily is disproportionately relieved. "She doesn't seem totally unreasonable. The men are the ones who seem to have a real problem here, if you find a time to confront her privately, it's almost certain to end better for you."

Emily stares up at him. There's an idea. It's just – just hovering at the edges of her mind, trying to form. "Hold on." She holds up a hand, rakes the other through her hair. "Just – you've talked to her. I've seen you two, that's why I asked about you earlier, I was worried…" Oh. She brings a hand up and literally hits her own forehead. _Stupid, stupid Peg. Stop worrying and start doing what you do best._

Riley backs up a bit, giving her space, looking at her like she's perfectly daft, but she gets that often enough of late that she's not much bothered by it. Daft like her Uncle Jack. Thinking like him comes so natural to her now it's…worrying, actually, because when did that happen? But oh, there's no time for that.

Adrienne likes Riley. Adrienne takes an interest in whatever Emily has, it's starting to seem like, so Riley would seem quite the prize if the whole crew really does know _all _about him and Emily. "Oh, that's brilliant." Riley snorts, looking skeptical. "No." She swaggers forward, pulls him down for a saucy kiss. "Really. I am brilliant."

"You're _mad_."

"One is easily mistaken for the other, just ask my Uncle." She waves him off. "Now listen. Remember in the beginning, when you were still busy being Andrews' little dog."

"Oi!"

She ignores him. "And he wanted you to get to me. He wanted you to pretend to be my friend thinking then I'd let you go, and I was working the same angle from the other side."

"Yes, I should think I remember all too well." He's miffed now. "What's that got to do with – anything?"

"Oh, just _think_ Riley." She clutches his shoulders. "Adrienne likes you. I need to know what's going on here, she's the only one with answers to that. The rest of the crew has decided I'm no good as a captain, why shouldn't you be right there with them?"

Realization dawns on his face, though slowly. "Oh." He says after a moment. "You want me to… to try and get close to her?"

"I want you to…" Emily glances around, getting nervous that someone may be around to hear. She lowers her voice. "I want you to play her like a fiddle. You did it with Andrews _and _me for a while there, I know you could."

"I'm not you." He hisses back, shaking his head.

"But you know how I think."

"Well, maybe a little better than anyone else by now, sure, but…"

"I'm sorry." She cups his cheek. "I am. But I need you, Riley. I _need _you to try."

He takes a breath, in, and then back out. "Alright. Alright, fine. How do you propose I get started?"

Voices sound from below decks, a few men coming up from the galley. Emily sends Riley an apologetic look before bringing up a hand, hauling back, and slapping him as hard as she can just as the men come around the corner. They all stop short. She keeps her focus on Riley, pointing at him as he rubs at his cheek and stares at her with genuine shock. "How _dare _you!" She says, too loud, words slurred as she sways in place. "After I've taken such good _care_ of you!"

Impressively, Riley doesn't miss a beat. "Of late? All you do is complain and drink." He pauses, glances over at the men, who are watching carefully now, seeing what he'll do. He clears his throat. "Best head on back to your cabin now, love. You've embarrassed yourself enough for one night, don't you think?"

She whirls around and glowers at the men gathered. They watch her, somewhat wary, mostly amused. How easily they forget who she is and what she can do. "What?" She snaps and stalks past them, unsteady.

'_Pathetic, eh?'_ She hears Riley as she goes, and pauses just out of sight of the men. _'Wonder why Captain LaBelle hasn't locked her up already.'_

There's a bit of a pause, and then one of the men answers. _'We was just wonderin' the same thing, matter of fact.' _

Letting out a breath she hadn't known she was holding, Emily keeps up her end of the façade as she stalks back to her cabin.

* * *

><p>Riley hates her sometimes, bossy little wench that she is. He hates that she's so controlling and he hates that he's so easily controlled and he hates… he hates that the things he hates about her are also the things that he loves. By the old gods, he's making himself dizzy.<p>

He scowls at himself. They spend too much time together. He's starting to sound like her.

But then, maybe this is a good thing. He needs to think like her if he's going to pull this off. He doesn't see what Emily does, looking at Captain LaBelle. The Frenchwoman is indeed pretty, and has been sweet and almost flirtatious with him since the moment they'd first talked. Then again, maybe that just proves Emily's point. What would Captain LaBelle want with him otherwise?

"Riley?"

He pauses just as he's about to slip below decks. "Miss Gibbs?" Everyone else calls her Jo. Why he still can't bring himself to is anyone's guess. Thankfully, she's never bothered to question it.

She appears to have just come down from being up at the helm. She hesitates as she approaches him, hands coming up to plant themselves on her hips. "Are you going down to see…?" She trails off with a bit of a sigh.

Emily's convinced the older woman is as much against her as the rest of the crew now is. Riley isn't, but has to play his cards right. "Peg?" He finishes for her. "No. Actually, it was Captain LaBelle who wanted to see me."

Miss Gibbs nods, but looks troubled. "How is…" She trails off, starts over. "It's just, I heard Peg n' you had a…" She huffs. "Oh! This is idiotic!"

Riley blinks at her, a bit bewildered. "She's – fine, more or less, if that's what you're trying to get at."

"More or less?"

"Well, at least as fine as can be expected, anyway, I'm sorry, I'm – confused. I thought you'd joined the rest of the crew in opinion on her?"

"She's threatened to keelhaul me, I suppose I ought to have, but…" Miss Gibbs scowls, frustrated. "I do agree with the crew some, but I couldn't wish her any harm if I tried. She's locked herself up tight in her cabin down there, and now I heard the two've you had a row last night, and apparently she was…"

"Drunk." That seems to be a common theme here. If Captain LaBelle really is behind all this, she's picked a most brilliant angle for it. Emily set herself up in the weeks after Sparrow left, made it all too easy for Captain LaBelle to just roll with it now. The most ironic thing about it? Emily hasn't had a drop of rum since the night she'd lost the duel to the Frenchwoman, at least not that Riley knows of. But, then, he's supposed to be playing into it all now, isn't he? "Aye, she was. Not sure what the crews so worried about with her, if I'm honest. Keep her well supplied with drink and she'll be both useless and harmless. Relatively."

Miss Gibbs' brows furrow, and she looks as though she can't decide between worry and angry annoyance. "Oh! This is _idiotic_! But fine. If she's just going to give up like that, let her."

But wait. Emily's memories. This is all one big puzzle they've stumbled into and he's sure not a few of the pieces lie with Emily's missing memories. If there really could be a magical remedy to this… _think like Emily, think like Emily…_ "I will say this, though; these missing memories of hers have left her an awful mess. She's woke up not a few nights now with her head pounding something terrible, scrambling to tell me what she'd remembered in her dreams before she loses it all again." This is news to Miss Gibbs. He sees the surprise and fresh worry all over her face. It's enough even for her to gloss straight over his very open admission of sharing Emily's bed. He goes on. "If I were to take pity on her for any reason, it'd be that." He shrugs. "But that's just me."

Miss Gibbs brings a hand up to bury it in her raven curls as she mutters. "Wish she'd bothered to tell me that. I know she hates magic, but the remedies for these things aren't over complicated…" She glances up at him. "I'll have a look at my books n' come see her tonight, could you…"

"I'll tell her." He says, too quick and eager. He clears his throat. "Not sure she'll be too eager to see you," he adds, more subdued, "but I'll see if I can't get her at least halfway decent and up for it by tonight."

Miss Gibbs doesn't notice anything off. On the contrary, she's already wandering off in the direction of her own cabin, absent-minded.

And Riley now has an excuse to pay Emily a visit after talking with Captain LaBelle. Maybe he really can pull all of this off.

* * *

><p>That necklace. It sends a chill down his spine. It's just him and Captain LaBelle in the small extra cabin Emily had made up for her, and that medallion is glowing a bright shade of red. Captain LaBelle doesn't seem to notice, which is good. Riley's seen it glow like that on and off quite often, but never so bright as it started to the moment he appeared in the doorway. It must be because of him; as if it has a mind of its own and is trying extra hard to work on Riley because it's not, in fact, working on him at all.<p>

But he still can't be sure of what it does, so pretending he's affected by it will be hit or miss. Cue the sudden panic. _Emily, Emily, think like Emily. _He takes a breath.

"You…wanted to see me, Captain?" He asks, respectful, hands clasped behind his back.

Deep blue eyes settle on him as a flirtatious smile settles on her lips – though, all Riley can think is that said lips aren't as plump as Emily's. They don't look near as kissable. "Ah, oui! Come in, se il vous plait." He does, tentative. She eyes him up. "I have been told some interesting things about you."

He raises his eyebrows. "I dread to think what they might be."

She chuckles, soft and feminine, but the sound holds no warmth. "I can assure you, the only things I care about have nothing to do with your," she pauses as though trying to settle on the right wording, "affairs involving – what is it she insists on being called now?"

"Peg."

"Peg. I am more interested in… well, pardonnez-moi." She waves herself off. "It is easier to be plain. I am told you should have more reason than most to be displeased with her. Something about a friend of yours, hanging from the mast of this very ship? And a very interesting tale that involved you being put under some sort of spell, but of this one I choose to be a little more skeptical."

He hardens himself. "And why would you be interested in any of that?"

She studies him. He doesn't like it. "Because if what I have been told is true, then you may wish to hear what it is I am planning." A pause, and she looks curious now. "Is it true, then? Did she cast some sort of spell over you?"

He thinks a moment. How to play this? "At the risk of being bold, Captain, I'd like to hear what is you are planning first. If I'm to be forced to choose sides so firmly, I'd like for it to be an informed decision."

She looks amused now. Or, at least as genuinely amused as he's ever seen her. "Very well. Tell me, then. How much do you know of how things work for our kind?"

His brows furrow in minute confusion. "I'm not sure… I have heard Peg talk of the Pirate's Code before, if that's what you mean, but she hasn't seen fit to explain much."

"Mmm, well, I would be happy to remedy this, but for the moment that is not what I am referring to. My plan involves the Brethren Court."

"Now I'm afraid you've lost me." Really, she has.

She nods, her amusement becoming plainer, a smile tugging at the corners of her lips. "Pardonnez-moi à nouveau. I do not intend to make fun. It is just that I was in your place not so long ago and it amazes me some, how times have already changed for me." She sits herself on the small bunk in the corner, draping one leg over the other in a manner that somehow manages to be at once over-feminine and very unladylike. "There are nine pirate lords, each with their own corner of the map to – well, perhaps 'rule over' is not the right phrasing, but there is power involved. Each is supposed to get a turn of the profits made from ships taken down in their territory, for instance. Now, some many years ago, there was something of a real war between the British Navy, a man named Cutler Beckett, and – well, at the time it was our parents. Cutler Beckett was in charge of the East India Company, and the threat he posed was not just to men sailing under a pirate flag here in the Caribbean, but all over the map. The court – the pirate lords – were called then, and decided to make a stand. Beckett's ship was obliterated, or so my father tells me, and the man himself along with it."

Riley takes a moment to process this. "Peg's mother had something to do with it all, right? Something about her being…"

"King." Captain LaBelle gives him. "And one of the nine lords to go with it, of course."

"King. The Pirate King." He's been bedding the Pirate King's daughter. Gods above, and that's added on to the terrifying things he already knew about the _Dutchman's _captain. He takes a breath. "And what does all this have to do with you? With any of us, now?"

"Much, I believe, starting with the fact my father too is a pirate lord." There's a different glint in Captain LaBelle's eyes. "But I think I should know better than to go further without first being assured that I have your attention. If it is true what I was told, the way Turner has played with you, the fact she killed your friend…"

"That was months ago now."

"But wounds inflicted by betrayal are not so easily healed."

"You talk like one who knows."

A pause, and her eyes soften, just the tiniest fraction. "Trust when I say that I do."

Riley brings up a hand to run it through his ginger curls – a habit he'd picked up from Emily, probably. "You mean to ruin her, then, truly. You're offering me revenge." It's not a question. He's pieced this much together.

Captain LaBelle smiles now, dark and cold. "Smart men are hard to come by, to spite what those of them in charge would have you think. A pity _she_ doesn't see you for the treasure you are. So. Do I have your attention, or not?"

His stomach lurches. _Think like Emily. _He forces himself to nod, slow, his eyes hard. "Yes, Captain. You have my attention. Indeed, you have my curiosity. None of what you've just explained seems to have any bearing on why you'd want control over this ship when Peg had already agreed to help you. Which isn't to say, mind you, that I'm not aware she had an ulterior motive for doing so."

"Well, if I am honest, my reasoning is as flighty as I'm sure hers tends to be. You see, as I understand it, the way a pirate is made one of the nine lords is by the title being passed down from whoever had it to begin with."

That's not too hard to piece together either. "And you're hoping your father will choose you."

"I plan to ensure he has reason to. If I can take this ship and reclaim my own along with the treasure this island is rumored to house…"

"Two ships, both with crews firmly under your command, and pails full of priceless gems. Would make you look very good by anyone's standards." He concedes, and then has to suppress a laugh as he realizes… "So, then, am I to understand you're taking over the _Queen _is – is just a whim? Done simply to see if you could?"

Captain LaBelle chuckles, her blue eyes warming a fraction with amusement again. "Oui." She brings a hand up to play with her necklace. "I suppose that is just what it is."

Riley watches her slender fingers run circles over the medallion, and debates with himself. Can he get away with asking about it? Perhaps if he angles it just right… "That necklace, it's familiar. I think I've seen the symbol, in one of Peg's books."

Her brows raise in minute surprise as she lifts the medallion as though to inspect it a bit herself. "It would not surprise me. It is Greek, the symbol of a war goddess." A pause, and those sharp, cold blue eyes dart back up to meet his. "And, as I know you have noticed, blessed by her as well." He opens his mouth, thinking to backpedal a little, but she holds up a hand to stop him short. "Calmez-vous, ma chérie. That is why I asked about this friend of yours she killed. My necklace has no effect on you, I can see, but when I heard of what she had done I had thought you and I could come to an understanding none the less."

Riley forces himself to relax, nodding. He wants to know more about the necklace now, even more than he did before, but decides not to push it. "I'm glad. It seems we understand each other just fine, Captain."

She smiles and stands. "Good! Now, come. I believe it is time for lunch, why don't you bring something down to Turner in her cabin? Seeing as everyone knows she is now all but refusing to leave it."

"You want me to spend time with her? We aren't on the best of terms any longer, as I'm sure you know by now."

Captain LaBelle nods. "I had heard. But I want her kept happy for now and would owe you greatly if you could keep her that way. Do you think you can do this?"

Well. Funny old world, isn't it? Riley nods amiably. "Aye, Captain. Knowing what you are planning, I'll do it with pleasure."

* * *

><p>"You mean to tell me – all of that and you didn't even find out what the necklace does?" Emily grumbles, irritable, as he finishes telling her what Captain LaBelle had said.<p>

Riley huffs. "All of that and I found out she knows very well that whatever the necklace does, it does not work on me. I decided I was better off leaving it alone for now."

"Well that – makes the rest of it just maddeningly unhelpful. Now I know what's in her head, but I still don't have a clue how to stop this madness."

"Mmm, well, as it turns out, I had a conversation with Miss Gibbs earlier as well." He strolls across the room to make himself comfortable in the window seat. "This time I'm the brilliant one."

She eyes him from her position at her desk, where she's been picking at the food he'd brought her – and, he notes, studiously ignoring the rum he'd snuck as well. "What did she have to say, then?"

"Aside from confirming that she believes just what the rest of the crew does, and informing me that she's worried about you more than anything else?" He tosses out airily. "I may have mentioned the dreams you've had, about you're missing memories. She's coming down to help this evening."

"She is?" Emily replies, eyes lighting up in pleasant surprise for a moment, and then her brows furrow. "Help. You mean help as in the magic variety of help. I'm still not so sure I want that kind of help."

Riley rolls his eyes, annoyed now. "Well, that kind of help maybe the only kind of help that actually gets us anywhere, so I suppose you'll have to get over it."

She glares at him now, eyes narrowed in an expression he finds more adorable than threatening. "Mouthy, cheeky bilge rat." She grumbles.

He shrugs, smug. "You're not captain, I can say whatever I please now."

"Oh, but one of these days…"

He sighs, shaking his head and trying not to be as amused as he is. "_Anyway_. We don't know what exactly the necklace does, but I think it's safe to say it really is messing with everyone's heads. I think what's going on is that it's different with Miss Gibbs. She's close to you in a different way than the rest of the crew. Just because she believes the lies doesn't mean she's all ready to throw you to the wolves."

"Which is something, I guess, but that may just mean the two of you plus Joshy'll go down with me if…" She trails off, shaking her head as she slumps back in her chair. All is silent for a moment; neither of them wants to think of the actual worst that could happen here. She snatches a mug of rum off her desk as though contemplating… "Funny, isn't it? Adrienne's all but managed to base an entire mutiny on me being the youngest drunk you've probably ever met, and I haven't had a drop of anything but water in days."

"It's just solid proof that it's all lies, complete lies." He offers in response.

She sighs, sounding tired. "Is it? All lies? The ideas had to come from somewhere." A pause, and she stares down into the mug. "There's a reason Alex left, after all."

"Sparrow left because he didn't see you for the treasure you are." He replies, vehement enough that her eyes dart up to meet his. "Running off with another woman like he did. That's how it will always be for him. He'll never be satisfied, that's not your fault."

She shakes her head and looks away again. "You're still too good to me." She drinks from the mug.

She's probably right, if he's honest. He leaves her to her thoughts.

* * *

><p>She really is a little drunk by the time the sun starts to setting. She'd promised herself she'd be better than that from now on, but had given up just for tonight. If she has to deal with magic, she has no interest in doing it sober. Besides, at this point, Jo's probably expecting it of her.<p>

She's curled up in the usual way in the window seat. The small brown tabby that had made the _Queen _its home, some months ago now, is curled up comfortable in her lap. It's been hiding out in the captain's cabin for the past several days, leading Emily to wonder if the sweet though mangy little animal can sense something's not right too.

The cat perks up as there's a knock at the door, anxious, but Emily knows there's only three people that would come down to see her. "Jo?"

There's an odd pause, causing Emily to wonder if it really is Jo. But then the door opens, and hazel eyes land on her – guarded and subdued. "Could I come in?"

The cat lets out a strange sort of growl, and Emily glances down at her, blank. "Erm," she strokes the cat's fur, trying to soothe her, "yes, of course, come in Jo."

The older woman casts a wary glance at the feline as well as she crosses the room slow. She's got one of her old spell tomes in her arms; she sets it down on the desk and hesitates as she eyes Emily up. "Riley – he told me about the dreams you've been having, your memories."

"I know." Emily glares at the spell book, but sighs in resignation.

"Well?" Jo asks, careful. "Would you be too terribly opposed to me at least trying something simple?"

"Wouldn't've told you to come in if I were."

The older woman's got just the hint of a scowl on her face, but at what Emily's not sure. The cat, maybe, glaring up at her? Or Emily's tone of voice, sassier even than her usual? Or maybe the slight slur to Emily's words. Whatever the case, the tension is so thick she could cut it with a knife, and it annoys her. "Goddess, Jo. What's the matter with you? You _knocked_, for pity's sake!"

There's another pause, hazel eyes soften just a fraction. "I wasn't sure, after what you said the other night…"

"Since when does anyone take half of what I come out with when angry that serious?"

"Since you then decided to give Riley a good bruise on his cheek and lock yourself up down here as if you've already…"

"Already lost? Not sure I haven't, s'hard to fight a battle you didn't realize was happening until there was a sword at your throat."

Jo plants her hands on her hips, expression going thunderous. "If could you be bothered to…" The older woman cuts herself off, abrupt, when the cat lets out another strange growl that trails off to a hiss.

Emily blinks down at her. "S'the matter with you?" She grumbles, rubbing the cats ears, but this does little to soothe her this time. When Jo makes a move to back away a bit, the cat just hisses again, then jumps out of Emily's lap to shoot across her cabin, hiding in a corner.

"Gah!" Jo jumps back and glares after the little ball of fur. "Temperamental little rat! Never was fond of cats."

"Oi!" Emily scolds, defensive of her little pet. "She's not so bad usually, I can't imagine what's got into her." She sits up. "Anyway, let's just get all this over with."

Jo nods and comes to sit next to her. "I'll try something simple to start. We've no idea how you lost your memory to begin with, so this may not work, but it'll be the least painful. Should be, anyway."

"Should?"

"Can I try it or not?"

Emily decides she's definitely glad of the rum, after all, though she still feels decidedly too sober for all this sort of – stuff. Especially thinking of what might be revealed should it work. "Aye, might as well."

Jo's hands charge with magic as she murmurs a soft chant, a spell of some kind. Bringing up two fingers, now glowing with a bluish light, she touches them to Emily's temple…

…pain. So intense, her vision blurs and her stomach turns violently and her mouth opens but no sound comes out. She falls off the window seat, doubled over, clutching her head and trying to breathe and goddess, she's never felt anything like this before, like someone is trying to claw out her eyes, and her brains been stuck with a thousand needles all at once and is now attempting to explode. _Breathe, in, out, in, out… _She literally has no room to focus on anything else.

She has no idea how long it lasts. It could be an hour she's curled up like this for all she honestly knows. When the pain finally recedes, it does so maddening slow, so coherent thought doesn't return to her for another several minutes even. When it does, her first thought is of Jo. It's been at least several minutes, so…why is the older woman not hovering over Emily, like she always does when Emily's hurt.

"Jo." She croaks out, staggering to her feet – the room spins, and she braces herself against the wall as she surveys her cabin. It's a mess. The odds and ends that were cluttering her desk are now scattered about the floor, as are the cushions from the window seat. The cat has set herself up on the desk at some point, and is staring at Emily with its head tilted in a way that could convey worry – if a cat would know enough to be worried. Emily blinks at her before glancing out across the shadowed end of the room, where the light from the lamp on the wall doesn't reach as well… "Jo!" She lurches forward. The older woman is laid out on the floor, unmoving, breathing shallow.

And this is just about when Joshy peers into the room. Yep, that sounds about her luck of late. "Emmy?" He sounds sheepish. "I…I had a nightmare –"

"Joshy, wait…" She slurs, voice barely carrying across the room, and oh it's still spinning and the pain still hasn't full gone away, her voice sounds too loud to her own ears.

It's too late. Her brother's pushed the door open further, brows furrowed as he takes in the mess – and then eyes widening as they land on Jo. "What…" He takes in Emily, on her knees next to the older woman. "Emmy – you're hands."

Feeling a little dazed, she trails her eyes down to stare at her hands. They're glowing bright with magic. Her control is better than that. A visible amount of magic couldn't have built up without her thinking about it, doing it with purpose. It _couldn't_.

What's going on?

"Emmy." Her brother murmurs again, and he hasn't crossed the room, is keeping his distance. His green eyes are turning harder, wary. "What did you do?"

"What did I…?" Her brows furrow as she closes her eyes and tries to think. "I didn't – Jo was…"

"She's – she's so pale. Did you fight again, I don't understand." There's panic behind his eyes now. "What did you _do_?" Demanding now.

Emily lurches back to her feet, reaching for him. "Joshy. Please." She falls back to her knees before him. "I don't know what's – this wasn't me, I didn't do this! How could you think…"

He flinches. "Emmy – I smell – are you drunk?" He looks down, startled now. "Your hands – you're hurting me!" He pulls away. Not just pulls out of her arms, but backs up several steps until he hits the wall. Before she can say or do anything else, he spins around and darts out of the room faster than a frightened mouse.

Her hands are shaking as she looks back down at them. She has to do something with all that power. Working her way back over to Jo, she closes her eyes and sets her hands to hovering over the older woman. _Heal_ she thinks with as much concentration as she can work up, and all the power spills out easy and into Jo. It's enough that the stream of it just keeps coming. Its use seems to help Emily too somehow, and the pain in her head finally becomes bearable and she realizes…

Jo's not waking. She hasn't moved a muscle.

Footsteps sound out, pounding across the deck, down the corridor to her cabin. Emily stops trying to heal Jo, knowing how it will look, and collapses back, feeling drained. Several men appear, all members of the _Queen's _crew save for Adrienne's first mate. He's pointing a pistol at her, looking wary. She's too exhausted and bewildered by now to argue it. And then the woman herself pushes past them all. Adrienne had either been in bed or readying for it, as she's wearing only her trousers, boots, and untucked shirt. She takes in the scene, eyes sweeping slowly around Emily's cabin, taking in Jo's too-still form. Finally, they land on Emily, hard and cold as ever.

Emily runs a hand through hair. "I don't suppose you'd be kind enough to let me explain?" There's supposed to be some kind of sass behind the words, but they come out flat.

Adrienne shakes her head, grave, as Joshy appears at her side looking fretful. Adrienne glances at him, eyes softening just a fraction. Riley comes up on her other side, and sharp green eyes take in the scene. He says nothing.

Emily knows what's coming next. "Please." She pleads with Adrienne anyway. "In- in front of my brother? Let me _explain_."

The Frenchwoman hesitates, but the men at her back bristle in response to Emily's plea. Their new Captain holds up a hand, stilling them, but it's plain what's happening – there's only one way this can go, whether it had been in Adrienne's original plan or not.

"Take the boy." She says, glancing at Riley.

He meets Emily's eyes for a brief moment, then does as he's told. Joshy doesn't do much in the way of protest.

Emily gets to her feet and reaches for her sword – to do what? She doesn't know. She's still dizzy and her hands are shaking, and there's no way she could win this besides. Still, she holds it out as Adrienne comes forward, flanked by two of the largest men who had been Emily's.

"Come, now." The Frenchwoman says, soft. Emily scowls, glances at the hulking figures ready to grab her, and drops her sword without ceremony. Adrienne looks genuinely relieved. "We will talk. Tomorrow." She glances back at the men. "For tonight, to the brig."

* * *

><p><em><strong>:)<strong>_

_**French:  
>Se il vous plait. – Please.<br>pardonnez-moi. – Forgive me.  
>Pardonnez-moi à nouveau. – Forgive me again.<br>Calmez-vous, ma chérie. – Calm yourself, darling.**_


	74. Meanwhile 6: Usefulness

She's been behind bars before. At least four times now that she can remember. And each time with a very definitive sentence of 'hanged until dead' hovering over her to make it all the more depressing, too. But there's nothing quite like being thrown in the brig on her own ship by men who had, at one time, followed her all the way to the End of the world and back again. Added onto the fact that Jo looked to be in pretty bad shape, and…

There's no one around to see her. Emily lays herself in a corner, curled up tight, and cries until she sleeps.

.

She dreams of her goddess, in the cell with her.

"If yeh bot'ered more to learn de gifts yeh've been given," she speaks calmly, sitting at the other end of the cell with her legs crossed straight before her, "yeh might've known de loss of yeh memories was a problem created by magic. And, had yeh known dat, Josephine would have known not to try dat which she did."

Emily stares down at the deck beneath her, silent for several minutes. She doesn't look up when she finally decides what to say. "Will she be alright?"

"Mmm, wit' time and de proper care. Which, you can give. Wit'out it, she will not wake 'til de curse put on you is lifted."

"I can't give her anything stuck in here."

"I could fix her." The goddess replies, almost airy. "Or, I could see to it yeh are let out so you might help her yehself. De choice would be yours."

If Emily apologizes. If Emily promises to be a good little girl and practice her magic and do all that she's told, no matter how difficult. But she's not feeling very forgiving right now. In fact, she feels sick and cold and almost ready to try out her magic now, if only to see what she could do to the being across from her. Instead, she just glares up at the goddess, eyes hard. "I'll get myself out. And if I can't – suppose Jo'll just have to wait."

"My stubborn, stubborn blessed one." The goddess shakes her head, and leaves.

.

"I did have a plan. I knew you'd be in the cell at the fort. I also knew you were missing your memories." Adrienne lists off, answering questions Emily doesn't even have to ask. "This, was not part of my plan."

"I know." And Emily does. She'd pieced that much together, waking up with a clearer head. "So. What was your plan for me, then?"

Adrienne hesitates, glancing at the guards posted at the entrance to the brig. "Leave us." They do. The Frenchwoman turns back to Emily. "My plan was to wait until you were scared enough to be in a more forgiving mood. Once I thought you had reached that point… I thought we might come to some sort of understanding."

"Understanding?" Emily snorts. "With you in control of my ship?"

"Well, I could hardly captain two ships on my own, could I? Once I had back my Sapphire, I thought we could work together. With the Admiral still breathing down your back, I thought it might be…beneficial to us both. Having the promise of my help would also mean having the help of my papa."

A pause, and Emily thinks this over. "Clever." She says shortly. "But not bloody likely."

"Well. I don't blame you for being testy _now_." She gestures to the cell Emily is locked in. "What really happened last night?"

"I don't know." Emily decides to keep it simple. "Jo was trying to help with my memories. What she did didn't work, I spent several minutes feeling like my head might split open, and then found her like she was. That's about the sum of it."

"I believe you."

"Is that supposed to improve my mood? All that does is prove you've somehow turned my men into… mindless…" She waves her hand, unable to find the right word, then just huffs. "Look, _now_ will you tell me what that thing 'round your neck does?"

Adrienne picks up the medallion in question, playing with it, a dangerous glint in her eyes. "Mmmm, some secrets I prefer to keep."

"Then what are you even doing down here? Just – gloating? You've won. I admit it. Leave me be."

"Now, where would be the fun in that?"

Emily glares. Adrienne turns to go, a smirk playing at her lips. "You might wish to start being a little less hostile, _capitaine_. We still have quite a ways to go, after all, and certainly there are plenty of islands left between here and Spain."

Emily's stomach drops at this, but damned if she's going to let Adrienne know it. "Maybe you should try being a little more original, eh?" She snaps back, snarky.

Adrienne's cold laughter is the only response.

* * *

><p>"Would you really, though?" Riley asks, forcing his tone to be more curious than anything else. "I mean… is that really what you want? Her dead?"<p>

"Well, I do suppose she is just clever enough to be more useful alive. And really, that is saying something." They're in Emily's cabin. Captain LaBelle has been picking through the mess that's been made of it.

"My argument exactly, if I may be so bold as to make one."

Captain LaBelle throws the cushions back onto the window seat and drapes herself across it. "This ship is lovely. I'd be quite jealous if I did not have my _Sapphire_."

Riley snorts softly, unable to help himself. The Frenchwoman raises her brows at him. He scowls a bit. "Forgive me, Captain. Just seems to me like you'll end up jealous of her for something, one way or the other."

Amusement flashes across her eyes. "You may not believe it, but I have nothing against Emily. At least, nothing of a personal nature. I told you why I am doing this. If I have truly bested her and that is the end of it, then I will let her go when this is over. If not – then I will do what I must to come out on top. But trust when I say it would bring me no pleasure to see her dead. In another life, I think the two of us could have been friends."

Riley shakes his head. "Look at it from her perspective, though. This isn't the end, Captain." He warns. "Knowing her, it's just the beginning."

"Mmm." She nods, slowly. "To tell you the truth, ma chérie, I would be disappointed in her if it was not."

Riley tries not to bristle at the endearment. Deciding he's had all he can stand of the Frenchwoman for the moment, he leaves.

* * *

><p>It's ironic, really. If not for the guards – again, her own men – keeping such a sharp eye on her, she'd be quite tempted to pass the time practicing her magic. As it is, she doesn't think she'll get away with that considering what got her in here the first place. Riley comes down a few times, but doesn't have much to say. Again, possibly because of the guards. He does bring her down some of her books to read.<p>

("You're more amazing than you know. I think the boredom alone shall drive me mad down here."

"Drive you…I feel the need to inform you that that might be an exceedingly short trip, darling."

"You're lucky you're handsome. Cheeky ginger bilge rat.")

She keeps hoping Joshy might come down to see her. He never does.

* * *

><p>She loses track of time after a while. Or, more like she stops bothering to keep track so much, as it really does begin to drive her bonkers. But she knows it's been weeks when Riley comes down with a bit more authority than he'd previously possessed and turns to the men standing guard.<p>

"Leave us." He says with a firmness that impresses Emily, and they do.

"Well." She says, not bothering to stand from where she's managed to make herself somewhat comfortable at the back of her cell. "_Captain _LaBelle is being good to you, then, isn't she?"

He rolls his eyes. "Only because I've taken a page out of your book and somehow got her thinking I'm enjoying the sight of you in here as much as she is. Honestly, I'm beginning to scare myself."

"Mmmm, I've taught you well." She says, feeling a vaguely twisted sort of pride.

He shakes his head, but looks amused. "I suppose, at the moment, I ought to be thanking you for that, but anyway, that's not what I came down here for." He gestures for her to come closer. She sets down the book she'd been reading and makes her way over to face him. He goes on, tone a bit more hushed. "There's something stranger going on here than I think you first thought."

"That would be saying something."

"I stole a peek at the course she plotted out for us. There is no island where we're headed. Unless – did you already know that?"

Emily just blinks. "No. I mean – I gave her the compass, at the time I had no reason to think there was anything off yet."

"Well, there are no islands this side of Spain that I could see. I think…that may be why you're still here."

"Not sure I follow."

"If this island's not on any map by now, maybe that's because no one can see it? I don't know, but I think getting to it will require your magic."

"Good to know I won't outlive my usefulness for a while yet, but that's not particularly comforting." Emily runs a hand through her hair. "I don't think I like the idea of an island that can't normally be found. We're getting dangerous close to history repeating itself here…"

"Yes – well, let's not go doomsday just yet, shall we?"

She shrugs. "If you're right, if she does need me for a real reason…that is good, I suppose. I can work with that, maybe." A pause, and she has to work up to asking the next thought that flitters across her mind. "Jo." She hesitates. "Any change?"

He softens a bit. "No. Which – isn't good, certainly, but at least she doesn't appear to be any worse off than she was."

Emily looks down so he won't see the guilt she feels in abundance for this. "She could end up just like that forever."

"Hey. We've had that conversation already. It wasn't your fault."

"Maybe, if I'd been smart enough to at least learn my magic better – I mean, I didn't have to use it so much, did I? Just had to get a better feel for it."

He reaches throw the bars as far as he can, pulling her chin up gently. "It wasn't. Your fault. And even if it was, I have a feeling all our answers are waiting for us at our destination. We'll put it all to rights before this is over."

She snorts softly. "You're too much the optimist. I don't know how you keep it up."

He smiles back. "By remembering that my best bets are on the woman who escaped the Admiral two times before she was even eight and ten years. If nothing else, Peg Leg Turner, I believe that your ridiculous amount of pure, dumb luck couldn't possibly have run out just yet. I mean, you are the one who keeps pointing your Uncle out for reference…"

"My Uncle waited ten years before it all came full circle with Adrienne's father."

"Is that you admitting defeat?"

"No." She says, decisive and abruptly cold as she thinks on it all. A feeling she's not over used to races like fire through her veins – blood lust, pure and intense in a way she's not sure she's felt it since the last time she'd seen the Admiral. "That's me promising that'll I'll wait just as long if I have to, but believe me. Turning my own brother against me? Adrienne will pay for all of this."

"Now that, sounds more like you."

He leans in, and they manage a kiss between the bars of her cell before he takes his leave.

* * *

><p>Emily feels it long before there are any visible signs. The magic is so strong, creating such chaos; it raises the hairs on her neck. She's never felt anything like it before. The skies outside are bright and clear, but she already knows what's coming. Riley had been right. Getting to the island would require magic.<p>

It's a few hours yet before Adrienne makes her appearance. She hasn't come down since the conversation they'd had on Emily's first morning in the brig. To spite the fact that Emily's spent the past weeks cursing her to the depths and then lower, she finds she has nothing to say when the Frenchwoman pauses a moment to eye her up.

Adrienne doesn't seem in a talking mood either. "Bring her." She says simply, tossing the keys to the men guarding Emily.

They do.

The sun is blinding for all that she's scarce gotten any of it in weeks – the brig has two very small barred windows, and both of them are opposite Emily's cell. She stands a moment and squints into it before the guards hurry her along, up to the helm to accompany Adrienne. The feelings worse now that she's out in the open, and it only gets worse as she takes in the source. Though the _Queen _is resting in calm waters, the sun bright and warm, there's a storm raging a few leagues out. Fierce enough to be considered a hurricane, clouds thick and rain pouring down in steady sheets as lightning strikes and thunder rolls. It's unnervingly unnatural, too contained and so dark nothing past it can be seen. It's almost enough to have her pointing out that perhaps, just maybe, there's a good reason why the island's so protected…but they've come too far now for Adrienne to think about turning back.

"Alright." Emily ventures. "What now, then?"

Adrienne waves her over to where there's a book set up on a barrel, a very familiar book. One of Jo's spell books. The men holding Emily let her go, but hover close by as she makes a wary trek over to join the Frenchwoman. "Clear the way." She says simply.

Brows furrowing, Emily reads over the page the book is open to. Apparently, whatever spells been cast on the island isn't one that can be done by a mortal witch like Emily or Jo, not on the scale they're working with here. But there is a way to counter it. The counter is simple enough – Emily has only to cite a simple chant, and some manner of sacrifice has to be thrown into the waters to honor whatever god is responsible for the strange island.

"Can you do it?" Adrienne asks, impatient.

"Sounds easy enough." Emily hesitates. "Any idea what kind of sacrifice we need?"

"Mmm, I think that is what the handful of jewels I found on my Sapphire was for. I have found a substitute."

Knowing she'll get no more information even if she pries, Emily just nods. Throwing up her hands, she turns so she's facing the chaos spread out before them. Allowing the dam to open, she throws up her hands as the familiar pressure builds. She mutters the chant, pronouncing the strange words as best she knows how, and the power travels up through her arms to coat her hands. A moment passes, she continues chanting, and the power builds until it explodes out in two steady streams, shooting forward to mix with the darkness of the storm. The sight is beautiful. Bluish strands of light whirl around as though caught in the winds, and then travel up along the bolts of lightning to dance through the black clouds shrouding the sky.

She finishes the chant, and that seems to be it. The power she'd built up is all used, suggesting she doesn't need any more. A light wave of dizziness overtakes her as her hands drop – that took more out of her than she'd been expecting, but she steadies herself easy enough. Nothing she can't handle. She continues to watch the spectacle her magic has created as she opens her mouth to ask what's next…and freezes, eyes widening when she hears the distinct sound of a pistol being cocked.

Oh. Bugger.

She turns around slow, eyes trailing down to stare at the weapon now aimed at her. It's her own pistol. Her stomach drops. She opens her mouth but no sound comes out. Out of the corner of her eye she sees Riley move half an inch forward, and she remembers herself enough to glance sharply at him. _Riley Connelly, for the love of…DON'T do anything stupid._

He stops. What can he do, anyway?

"I wasn't going to do this." Adrienne says, calm. "It is possible we could have found another way, I think, but there would be no guaranteeing it would work. And Riley – he's clever, this one – he pointed out that leaving you alive would only give you the chance to ruin all this for me. And I can't have that, can I?"

"Ad-Adrienne." Emily stutters, but can't think – nothing comes to mind, no good argument. "Please." Is all that makes it past her lips. "Please."

Something flashes behind the Frenchwoman's too-blue eyes, regret or guilt or...well, whatever it is, it's gone too quick to be identified. It's replaced by cold determination. And…

Emily doesn't remember hearing the pistol fire. Nor can she remember feeling too much pain. She just feels – cold. Cold and numb. Looking down in shock, she really can't believe it. Can't understand that the blood blossoming on her blouse is her own; that there's a hole in her own chest. She stumbles back, her legs giving out, runs into the rail. She's beyond comprehending whatever else happens after this. Somehow she ends up in the water – and after that, it all goes quite dark.

.

Her last thought is of Alex. Because of course it would be of him. Him and that New England farm and the pretty little English lily he'll be sharing it with instead of Emily.

He wouldn't grieve for her overmuch, she suspects. But that had been the point of letting him go, the one thing she'd managed to get exactly right. So she hopes he won't, if he ever even finds out.

And then, she closes her eyes, and lets it all go.

* * *

><p>Riley's stomach lurches as the shot rings out. He keeps himself from going to her, but only just. There's nothing he can do. Blood blossoms on her blouse, she's looking down to watch it with eyes wide and mouth moving, though no sound makes it past her lips. She stumbles back, hits the rail of the ship, collapses.<p>

Captain LaBelle nods at her first mate. He and another man move forward, picking up Emily's slight frame with ease, and just like that, she's gone. There's a splash and the men who'd just thrown her overboard watch a moment before turning back to their captain and shaking their heads. It's all over.

Gone. She's gone. _Dead_. Riley's hands shake and he feels as though he may be sick. How can she be dead? The rest of the crew don't look as thrilled as it had seemed they would be either. In fact, they look considerably unsettled, to say the least. Could it be that watching Emily…that seeing what they've just seen was enough to wake them up a bit?

Captain LaBelle's not paying attention to any of them, though. Her eyes are fixed straight ahead, into the storm – which parts like a curtain. A smile almost graces her lips, but it seems even she has the decency to be a little more solemn after what's just been done. She nods once, throwing her shoulders back as she addresses the crew. "Take us through, gents! No cost will have been too high for what awaits us, this I promise you!"

They hesitate. For the first time in weeks of Captain LaBelle being in charge, they properly hesitate. But now's not the time. The treasure that awaits them will in no way make up for the loss of Emily, at least not for Riley, but it's better than nothing and he still wants answers to all of this, and only Captain LaBelle can get them there. Riley clears his throat and steps forward, standing tall. "You heard the lady!" He barely recognizes his own voice, low and gruff as it comes out. "Get to work!"

Captain LaBelle sends a nod of thanks in his direction before taking the helm. He meets her eyes, steady as he can manage, then stalks past her and down the steps. He needs a moment to – just, to think. He ends up half stumbling over to the rail and staring down into the water, hoping for some sign of Emily. _You owe me. You owe me too much you miserable, selfish little hellcat. I'd call it all even if you could just – Captain, please. Don't be dead._

There's no sign of her, of course. He'd seen the blood. She's gone and he knows it and it turns his stomach.

"Connelly." A voice croaks out, scratchy but familiar.

He spins around. "Miss Gibbs!" Eyes wide, he shoots forward to offer the older woman some support. She's teetering precariously as she tries to cross the deck to him.

Her skin is ghostly pale. Cheeks, normally full and dimpled, are now sunken and shadowed, and there are deep bruises beneath her eyes. "Where's Peg. I need to – I know what's wrong, I have to tell her…"

He's not sure she can handle what he has to tell her now, not in the state she's in. "You're not well." He begins leading her back below decks. "Let's get you…"

"No, please, I need to see her. Where is she?"

"She's…" He trails off. He's not sure he could get the word out even if he thought she was ready to hear it. "Busy. Look, I'll explain, but you need rest and water and food, you look like the living dead."

As he leads her below decks a familiar pair of big green eyes find his, wide and worried and unsure and quite possibly shining with unshed tears. Joshy looks as though he really can't decide what he's feeling at the moment, and with all that's gone on, Riley can't blame him. But he can only handle one problem at a time. He sends the boy an apology with his eyes, and leads Miss Gibbs away.

.

"How long…" She asks as he bustles about, trying to find her some sustenance. They are in the galley; he'd tried to take her back down to her cabin, but she'd refused. Conceding that he did have a point, water and food were what she needed, she'd allowed him to half carry her down and seat her at a table while he got her some of each. "How long was I out?" He places a mug on the table before her and a plate with hard bread and an apple, along with a bowl of the porridge they'd had for breakfast that morning – not much, maybe, but it'll do. She's not complaining. The bread disappears in moments. He hesitates, and she raises a brow at him. "I gather it was a while, lad, just come out with it."

"Weeks." He replies.

She nods, tucking into the porridge. "That's a powerful spell. Then again, I should've expected as much. Goddess knows nothing with Peg is ever easy, eh? Is she alright? I imagine it didn't feel too good on her end either."

She's starting to come alive again. He watches as she puts away the porridge, bites into the apple, gulps down half the mug of water at once. There's color already returning to her too-thin cheeks, helped along, no doubt, by that goddess she and Emily talk about so much. "No." He replies feebly. "Left her awful sick. Feeling like her head was fit to burst, or so she said, and dizzy."

"But she's alright now?" He can't answer. Miss Gibbs starts to look worried. "What is it, what's wrong?"

"A lot – a lots happened." He starts, voice low and gruff again. There's a thought inching its way to the front of his mind, an idea not fully formed, but he knows he needs to be hard now. "When we found the two of you that night, it didn't look good. Peg was trying to heal you, but it looked like you'd fought maybe, the room was a mess. The men thought you were bewitched by her, under some manner of spell done on purpose. Captain LaBelle had her locked up, in the brig."

Miss Gibbs leans back in her chair, eyes wide. She runs her hands over her face. "By the old gods. She's been locked up down there all this time?" She gets to her feet, much steadier now. "I have to go talk to her."

He shoots to his feet, blocking her way, and was she always so… She's lost weight being laid up in that strange coma, is unhealthy thin. That's got to be why she seems so _small_ to him of a sudden. Shaking his head, he gestures back to the chair she'd been sitting in. "Sit back down. That wasn't all I had to tell you."

Her hands come up to plant themselves on her hips. "Now you're worrying me. Spit it out."

"Sit." He demands. She huffs, but does as she's told. He sits as well, rakes a hand through his hair. "The island has a spell of protection around it, in the form of a hurricane. The only way to get through is with magic – and that was the only reason Captain LaBelle was keeping her alive." He shakes his head, looks away. "Miss Gibbs. Emily's… Emily's dead."

The only woman he's met that's as tough as Jo Gibbs is Emily herself – the older woman is silent for a long moment, and then her fists clench as she nods once. "Aye, then." Her voice shakes, but only a little. "So what are we doing about it?"

"I don't know." His voice still hasn't cracked, not once. "It's just happened, all at once. I just know…" He reaches down into his boot and takes out a dagger, bringing it up to inspect it. Its – it _was _Emily's. He'd nicked it from her cabin around the time she'd been locked up. That idea from earlier is starting to come together now. "I just know we can't let _her _get away with all of this."

Miss Gibbs eyes the dagger. "Adrienne's no fool. She'll be watching you, expecting you'll be upset."

"Oh, and I am. But not in the way she's expecting." He leans forward, fiddling with the dagger a little. "If we can have her believing that we are, both of us, glad that Peg's gone… After all, she did bewitch you. And, as it happens, Captain LaBelle already thinks I hate Peg more than any of you."

"You're starting to _sound_ like…" A hint of amusement lights up her eyes a bit, until she trails off. Like Peg, is what she was going to say. She takes a breath. "If nothing else, Addy'll get us to this treasure, I suppose. But what then?"

"The men – they didn't look happy when Peg went down. Quite the opposite. Whatever spell Captain LaBelle's had you all under, they're starting to shake it off – and it sounds like you are too."

"Spell?" Miss Gibbs pauses as though thinking, a hand coming up to bury itself in her raven curls. "Curse, more like. Aye. S'ppose that would explain quite a bit."

"More than you know. Why do you think we've seen nothing of Joshy yet? We just watched Captain LaBelle shoot Peg right through the heart, he should be…" Riley slumps back in his chair. "She died believing her own brother hated her. She'd promised to wait years if she had to, to get revenge just for that on its own."

"And she'll have it." Miss Gibbs replies, hazel eyes hard as he's ever seen them. "Even if we have to make it happen."

Riley slips the dagger back into his boot and stands. "Well then, Miss Gibbs. I'd say we'd best go see our lovely new Captain."

* * *

><p><em><strong>Ok, this little story arch is ending up a whole lot bigger than I intended, but I'm too tired at the moment to be worried about it. Anyway, hope you enjoyed the overdue update! :)<strong>_


	75. Meanwhile 7: The Island

"Yeh didn't really t'ink I'd let yeh go so easy, did yeh?" The voice belongs to her goddess.

Emily's raises her eyebrows, looking around calmly. Ok. Where is she, then? She's standing in the doorway to a small hut, creaking and run down. Stealing a glance behind her, she sees a rickety balcony and some steps leading down to a small dock. It's a river bank they're on. She can just make out the trees on the other side, tall and massive and draped in Spanish moss. She's nowhere near Spain anymore, though. The air here is just different enough to tell her she's closer to home where she's standing now.

There are lights flickering, dotted among the swampy jungle. Emily shivers at the feeling that she's being watched.

Cradling her left arm delicately, she wanders further into the hut. It's full of all sorts of exceedingly strange odds and ends. Jars hang down, things like snakes and frogs preserved within them. She thinks better of inspecting them any closer when she notes one that could very well be full of eyeballs. Skirting around them, slow and tentative, she comes to face her goddess.

Calypso looks different here. She's taken on a form much closer to the one Emily's parents described first encountering her in, some sort of ragged voodoo queen.

"I did wonder." She answers the goddess finally. "Just for a moment there." But then, that had been the point of her punishment.

"Yehr mother would t'row me a fit if I allowed yeh to end up in her care." The goddess beckons her forward, gesturing to a chair next to where she's seated at a small table.

"Mmm, suppose this is the easier way to go for you then?" Emily sits, careful not to jostle her arm too much but hissing as a sharp pain shoots down it from her shoulder anyway.

The goddess gives her a sharp look. "It would save us all de trouble if yeh would only learn not to be so stubborn." She reaches forward and pulls Emily's shirt away from her wound, brushing it off her shoulder.

Emily looks down, grimacing at the sight. The bullet is still there. A few inches further down and it would've hit what she assumes was its intended target – her heart. "Damn."

Her goddess had already prepared for this. There's a bowl of water with a rag, and a cup full of – something. Emily doesn't question anything as her goddess begins dabbing at the area around the wound with the rag. She winces a few times.

"Brace yehrself. Yeh know as well as I dere is no way to do dis wit'out pain."

For a goddess there probably is, but Emily doesn't question, never questions. She clutches at the chairs armrest and closes her eyes. Her goddess uses magic to make a quicker job of it, but the pain is still sharp and intense as the bullet works its way out. She sucks in a sharp breath and holds it, not sure she can let it go without crying out. Its over soon enough, though, and the pain subsides again, becoming more bearable than it was to begin with. She relaxes slowly, opening her eyes.

Her goddess takes the cup with its unknown mixture and shoots into it a small spark of magic before handing it off to Emily. "Drink."

The taste is bitter. Emily suspects her goddess left it that way on purpose, but knows better than to complain. She manages to get it down, and is soon glad she did. Whatever the mixture was, combined with the magic it sends her shoulder to mending itself. The sensation is strange and again quite painful, but over as quick as if Emily were still immortal. She rolls her shoulder when it seems to be over, and the only sign of the wound left over is a distinct scar.

Emily touches the scar on her cheek and sighs at the fresh one on her shoulder. _Add it to my growing collection._ "Will you send me back?"

Her goddess nods. "But I warn yeh, de troubles yeh facin' started wit' magic, so wit' magic yeh will have to end it all."

Emily huffs, but nods, resigned. "I know." Getting to her feet, she dips into a curtsy, albeit only halfway. "My goddess. Thank you."

Her goddess waves a hand, as though sending Emily halfway across the world is effortless. Probably it is, for a goddess. Emily closes her eyes, and waits.

.

She pops back into existence rather abrupt, way out in the water. She's not unused to such sudden scenery changes by now, though; this is rather routine when dealing with her goddess. She starts swimming.

She drags herself ashore on a beach that stretches as far as the eye can see in either direction. The island is beautiful in that same vibrant, too-bright, over-colorful way that Calypso's paradise is. Emily allows herself to stand and take it in a moment as she catches her breath, then spins around to scan the waters surrounding it. There are three ships anchored, each well out of the others way, but just close enough for Emily to recognize the _Queen _just in front of her, and Adrienne's Spanish galleon to her right. And then, to her left… her eyes narrow as her blood runs cold, and the only explanation to this reaction is the sudden dull ache in her head. That ship. She recognizes something about it, the same way she recognized something about the streets of Port Royal. Familiar-but-not-familiar.

Her answers are here. _Right again, Riley_. She makes a mental note of just how much she owes him, too.

She sets her sights on the _Queen_. She's not going anywhere unarmed. Adrienne will almost certainly have left a skeleton crew to man the ship, but she's not too worried about this. Not now that she's resigned to the fact her magic is a necessity. Deciding to make this quick and simple, she brings up a hand and with a flick of her wrist, she's standing on the deck of her ship.

She's immediately met with the sound of swords being drawn. Raising her eyebrows, she turns to the men holding them. Two of her crew, men she's known since Ana was still their captain. "Nice to see you too, gents." She replies, easy.

They both look – confused. How cute. She doesn't have time for them to try and piece anything together, if they can even, so she simply brings up a hand again and flicks her wrist. The swords go flying. The men's eyes widen. They each hold two hands up in surrender, backing away. She gives them a lazy solute before slipping below decks, making for her cabin – and, hopefully, her affects.

Someone had put her cabin back in order somewhere along the line. The desk is neat and tidy now. She grimaces as she looks around. If Adrienne had been using this cabin… where are Emily's things?

A warm breeze flows across the cabin, carrying on it the feel of her goddess. It sweeps across the room – and pushes open the door to the tall wooden armoire on one end of it. Emily jogs over and opens it, eyes lighting up at what's inside.

* * *

><p>The island is beautiful in a way that's almost unnatural. The trees are too green, the fruit they're laden with too colorful. The jungle around them is teeming with all sorts of strange, colorful creatures he's never seen before. And something about it all feels off in a way he couldn't explain if asked. They've been walking for what seems like ages, but the sun looks to be in much the same position it was when they first stepped foot on the island.<p>

He wonders if Emily would better understand what's going on. It's likely she would. In fact, she's so used to adventures like this, she'd probably just be basking in the light of the sun, happy to be out of the brig.

She is. She _was_. Riley can't seem to get it right in his mind, and every time he thinks of it his stomach turns as his blood boils. She's gone, gone, gone, and he doesn't know what comes next, and she was supposed to fix things. She'd promised, kept reminding him, she'd get him back to his Sarah somehow. Maybe he's a fool to keep hoping that'll be possible someday, but Emily…Emily has a way of making him believe anything is quite possible just by her existence. He'd heard the things about her and it all happened while she was still half a child herself, and by rights a woman shouldn't be able to…just, shouldn't _be _what Emily_ is_.

Was. What she _was_, and that's just it. If she can be _gone_, then it all seems much more hopeless.

He glares at the back of the Frenchwoman he's directly trailing behind. Captain LaBelle. No, not captain, never his captain. He's going to kill her, he thinks, and startles himself, and thinks it again more firm. He hardly owes Emily anything, but he'll give her this anyway. Captain LaBelle is going to find herself on a one way trip straight to the Locker, and Riley's going to make sure of it. He's sure Emily's mother will be more than happy to send the Frenchwoman there personally.

He's startled out of his dark reverie when a too-thin hand shoots out and grabs him. Miss Gibbs has been hovering close at his side for the very purpose of reaching out for support if she needs it. He blinks as he realizes it's his arm she's grabbed and not his shoulder. He hadn't been imagining it back on the ship. She is smaller. It seems that's because he's grown. He scarce feels the weight of her on his arm.

A bit more important than that, though, is the fact this is at least the third time she's stumbled in as many minutes. She's still not well, and it seems her goddess doesn't have as much sway over things on this strange island. He casts a worried glance in her direction, but she rights herself and trudges on. He thinks better of asking if he can help in some way. She'd be likely to react to that about as well as Emily would (have. Would have.)

Instead he clears his throat and very pointedly wipes the sweat from his own brow, gasping a little harder than he needs to as he calls out. "Captain – how much farther is it? It feels as though we've been going hours, might a rest do us all some good?"

Miss Gibbs glances at him, eyes full of clear gratitude instead of the annoyance he'd expect. Worrying.

Captain LaBelle glances back but is, mercifully, too preoccupied to notice anything amiss. "We should be close." She's got the map open in her hands, and scowls down at it. "We should be…"

"There's a clearing up ahead." Riley points out, insistent as he dares as Miss Gibbs nearly trips again. "Lay the map out on that rock there, get a better look or you'll have us going 'round in circles."

Captain LaBelle huffs, but does as Riley suggested. Riley, in turn, hovers close by Miss Gibbs until she finds a large tree root that's looped up high enough out of the ground for her to sit. She's pale and gasping a bit. Joshy comes over, looking worried, and Riley leaves them to talk to Captain LaBelle.

"How is it the sun is still so high in the sky? Surely some time has passed."

Captain LaBelle sends a glance skyward and heaves a frustrated sigh. "I don't know. It is not as though I had much time to find out anything about this place."

"Look…" Riley steals a glance back at Miss Gibbs. "Let me scout ahead. I'll see how close we really are, and if we'll have any company when we get there."

Captain LaBelle hesitates, but nods. "Go on."

Riley steals one last glance back at Miss Gibbs, heaves a sigh, and gets moving.

* * *

><p>The compass always spins. She can't remember a time where it didn't spin for her. Focusing herself has never been an easy task, there always seems to be one too many things going on, one too many things that need doing or fixing. But she needs it now. She can't do her little disappear-reappear act to get across the island, she has to know where she's going for that to work, has to be able to visualize it. She's just glad she'd thought to take the compass back from Adrienne and tuck it away safe in her desk with its magic seal.<p>

She does use magic to get back to the beach; she doesn't have the time or patience to deal with rowing there. She hesitates a bit with the compass in her hands. It only ever points her to _him_. This had been proven on several occasions. But things are different now. All she can really think about is Adrienne. In fact, her thoughts are so singularly focused on Adrienne, on just what she's going to _do _to Adrienne when she gets her hands on the Frenchwoman – she's almost scaring herself. This anger she feels – the only comparison she has is to how she feels about the Admiral.

But even with him, it's different. With the Admiral it's all tinged with fear, a need to never end up in his grasp again, a need to be rid of him so she doesn't have to worry about him anymore. Adrienne…is only a threat because of her medallion. And Emily's got magic that should be strong enough to combat that. She snakes a hand up to feel at her chest with its fresh scar, and the hand clenches into a fist. With Adrienne what she feels is an entirely different kind of rage. Its fire in her veins, so intense that she envisions herself standing before Adrienne…with her father's sword stuck through the Frenchwoman's stomach.

Bloodlust. What she wants is _revenge_, and this feeling is so intense that any qualms about using her magic were left at the bottom of the ocean where Adrienne tried to leave her.

Emily opens the compass. It's already settled on a direction, further inland. Strides long and determined, she gets moving.

.

They're speaking Spanish, she knows that much.

They don't seem to find any sense in the idea of killing her. At least, she figures this is the case, because they don't seem to be threatening. There's one that speaks English, if only just, and she manages to communicate she's on her own and convinces him she knows nothing about where she is. It's easier than it sounds, maybe because she looks as clueless as she half is for all that she can barely understand the broken English of the man she's attempting to talk to.

Anyway, she ends up more annoyed than anything else. Her new friends, she gets the impression, actually believe her to be a boy. She could pass for one, really, without her corset and looking rather the worse for wear. The men keep a sharp eye on her, but allow her, by some miracle, to keep her sword (maybe this is because they think the sword is all she has. They don't have to know about the knife hidden up her sleeve and the other in the scarf keeping her hair back and the pistol in her boot…there's a reason she learned how to hide these things.) And she doesn't doubt that they know exactly where they are going – incidentally, they're all heading in the very direction the compass is pointing her.

Emily supposes she could get creative and find herself a magical remedy to this problem, but her control with her magic gets so dodgy at times…she decides it's not worth the effort. Besides, the one who speaks something-vaguely-resembling English did have the oddest look on his face when he saw her…almost as if he knew her, though he doesn't appear to have mentioned this to the others. And the more she thinks about that, the more she starts to feel that dull ache in her head.

Answers are still needed. She sticks with the Spaniards.

* * *

><p>Riley sprints back through the jungle, vaulting over tree roots and any other odd obstacle. He near trips several times, but manages to regain his footing and keep up what might be a pretty impressive pace. The sun finally seems to have begun the descent it should have hours ago, but still shines bright and too warm, and he's gasping for breath and soaked to the bone with sweat by the time he bursts back into the clearing housing Captain LaBelle and the <em>Queen<em>'s crew.

Captain LaBelle scowls as he near runs right into her. "Riley! Mon Dieu, what is the matter with you?"

"Caves…so many of them…" He gasps out. "Full of those jewels…but we do have company."

"How many?"

He shakes his head. "At least as many men as we have…well armed…" He pauses, trying to regain his breath. "But Captain, there's a woman…she glows like your medallion does!"

Captain LaBelle swears. "Bah! I should have known Turner would still be useful!" She grumbles. "Unless…" She turns to Jo, who appears to have overheard their conversation. Her shoulders slump in a tired sort of exasperation at what Captain LaBelle is clearly suggesting.

"I couldn't come close to matching up to Emily on a _good_ day, how exactly do you figure I could manage anything useful now? Gods above."

"I just need a distraction." Captain LaBelle replies. "Get and keep the witch's attention and we will take the men."

Jo grumbles – something unladylike as ever – and throws up her hands, but gets to her feet. "Aye, then. Lead the way." Addressing Riley now, apparently.

He doesn't like this any more than she does, but leads her away all the same.

* * *

><p>How long have they been going like this? She can't actually tell. It feels like hours, but the suns about as high in the sky as it was when her new friends first caught her. She tries to reach out with the more non-mortal senses she's gifted with, but all that tells her is that she's in the territory of a god that is not her patron. The strange presence doesn't seem hostile, just wary of her. A small mercy, but one Emily's thankful for.<p>

Right. Back to the sun not moving…well, it's still staying put. But she and her new friends are definitely getting somewhere. The jungle around them is starting to thin out, and the strange but beautiful birds and assorted other creatures occupying the trees and brush are becoming scarcer as well.

Emily thinks, maybe, she's sees a set of cliffs up ahead…

* * *

><p>"There."<p>

"I see her. Bit hard to miss, isn't she?"

The witch Riley had seen is indeed glowing, very visibly. She's dark of skin, with long, stringy hair done up some in braids, and wearing a dress adorned with jewels and baubles. The aura around her is soft and tinged a dark red. She looks much more like what he'd sort of expect a witch to look like, aged and bent in on herself a bit, an old crone.

"Why does she glow like that?" Riley asks, unable to contain his curiosity.

"She's a voodoo queen. Dark magic. Not what we're used to. Any kind of magic takes its toll on the one using it when used in excess, but dark magic…well. As you can see." She nods toward the witch.

The crone turns in their direction, or at least, it certainly seems like it. Her eyes glow the same color as the aura surrounding her. Miss Gibbs tenses next to him and makes some sort of odd gesture, presumably some old way of warding off evil. He rolls his eyes a bit. "Do you think you can keep her attention?"

"I won't be much more than an annoyance to her, I expect, but I'll try."

"I'll watch your back. If that's worth anything in this case."

"S'ppose the thought counts, anyhow." She grumbles, and gets to her feet. He watches as she begins working her way out into the clearing surrounding the entrances to the caves.

* * *

><p>The Spaniards grow more animated as they get close to the cliffs. The reasons why are more than apparent – for one thing, there are caves set into the cliffs. <em>A lot <em>of them. And all of them quite possibly holding those gems Adrienne had been after. Another reason the men are growing more excited might well be because the clearing they are approaching is already teeming with men. But this isn't too much a concerning thing for Emily. The thought of Adrienne has that fire, new in its intensity, rushing through her veins and setting her blood to boiling. Adrienne and the _Queen_'s crew must be close too, by now, and Emily can't wait…

Her magic tries to start building itself up preemptively. Emily holds it back with a control that is actually well practiced by now. She needs to map out what the situation here is first. As the Spaniards dart forward and into the clearing, hands already at their swords, Emily slips off to the side to hide away a bit and just watch.

There's quite a bit going on already, with the Spaniards so blatantly confronting the second group of men, but it's something entirely different that catches Emily's eye. A woman. Or, something resembling a woman. She's an old crone now, bent and ragged and haggard…she looks a bit like Calypso had when Emily just saw the goddess, the way she's dressed. Except the old crone is, rather obviously, not using any kind of magic that Emily's familiar with.

She's glowing. That's…new.

* * *

><p>There's a second group of men stalking forward into the clearing, hands already at their swords. Jo hesitates. She's perhaps a mere three steps away from being right out in the open herself, and is attempting to gather the energy to put on the display she needs to. The second group of men seems to be providing quite a distraction themselves… but not for the witch. She's staying out of it, very firmly, and is instead scanning the tree line.<p>

And pausing right about where Jo's just barely hiding. Blast! Exhausted as she is, Jo brings up her hands and begins summoning her magic.

* * *

><p>Joshy can't decide what to do anymore. He wants to burst into tears. He wants to run away. He wants…to hit Captain LaBelle, though some part of him is unsettled by this, but then why should that be unsettling, Captain LaBelle had taken Emmy's pistol and…now he wants to burst into tears and hit Captain LaBelle and then run away, in that order.<p>

It still hasn't settled in. Emmy can't be _gone_. She'll be fine, she'll be back. She always comes back for him.

He's trembling something fierce as he trails behind the other men, led along by Captain LaBelle, who stops them now. Joshy hears voices up ahead, some sort of commotion. What's going on?

"Boy." That's Captain LaBelle's voice, beckoning him forwards. Joshy slips past the other men to face her. She points to a group of trees whose trunks are obscured by a thicker set of bushes. "Hide yourself." Captain LaBelle says, firm. "Riley or I will come for you, stay put until then."

He nods and does as he's told without complaint. He hates being useless, but knows that's just what he is, being still so small. He has a pretty fair view of what's happening from his hiding spot, anyway, and his brows furrow when he sees two groups of men that appear to be arguing, and an _old _woman who scares him at first glance, though he has no idea why.

* * *

><p>The compass is pointing her off to the side, through the jungle. What Emily's after isn't in the clearing where all the other men are looking about ready to go at each other. And the ones who'd been watching her so close on the way here have now forgotten she exists. The witch, undoubtedly, will prove to be a problem at some point, though. Emily deliberates for longer than she should. Take care of the witch first? Or finish hunting Adrienne down?<p>

Unsurprising, Adrienne wins out. Emily slips back further into the jungle again, and begins cutting across to where the compass is pointing her.

* * *

><p>Riley hears rustling coming from somewhere behind him, the clear sound of someone else picking their way through the jungle. He only has a split second to decide – see who it is, or duck down and hope he isn't noticed?<p>

He wants to be at hand to help Miss Gibbs if it's needed, in whatever way he can manage. He ducks down.

* * *

><p>Jo's rather impressed with herself. The raw power making her hands glow might not be much compared to what the glowing witch could conjure, but for Jo it's impressive. Well, impressive considering the state she's in, anyway. She forms the energies into a large ball in her hands, hauls back, and throws it with all her might. It shoots forward at a fair speed, and hits its intended target.<p>

The dark witch stumbles back, though she obviously isn't hurt. Her glowing eyes focus in on Jo's location, and she begins conjuring her own power-ball. Unsurprising, its larger than Jo's and glowing far brighter.

Jo throws up her own hands, conjuring a shield of energy that glows a faint blue, and braces herself as well as she can…

* * *

><p>She could cloak herself, she realizes. It would be easy that way. She could cloak herself, take out the knife in her boot, slip up to Adrienne entirely unnoticed, and… But that's playing dirty, even by the standards Adrienne's set, and would be low even for Emily. She wants revenge, but she'll be damned if she's going to do it in such a cowardly way.<p>

Instead, she reaches for her sword as she sees yet another group of men up ahead, through the trees. This group she recognizes all too well. _Her _men, they used to be. Hadn't she promised to keelhaul them all? Strange to think that was weeks ago. It feels like a lifetime. Actually, none of the anger she feels is for them anymore. It's all just Adrienne now, Adrienne and that medallion.

Besides, as satisfying as it is to threaten, Emily doesn't have the stomach for any kind of prolonged punishment. She wants it quick and simple, and knows how to make sure it will be. She has a feeling that medallions magic won't work so well if it's chief victim is well aware of its effects.

This time, the fight will be fair, and by the old gods, Adrienne will lose.

* * *

><p>She stays on her feet, but slides backwards on them all the same, and is thrown into a tree. The shield she'd had up fizzles out, rather pathetic, and she collapses to her knees, dazed.<p>

The witch stalks towards her, murmuring in another one of those ancient languages, chanting a spell. Jo tries to throw her shield back up. Hold her hands out…nothing. Try again, _please, please…_sort of something, it fizzles out too quick to be useful. _Blast it all, Calypso herself would be ashamed…_ now it works. Just in time. Another ball of power flies at her, but disperses against the shield that is a bit stronger.

Jo isn't sure how long she can keep this up…

* * *

><p>"Should we try to get around them, Capitaine?" Adrienne's first mate asks.<p>

There's a bit of a pause as she watches the two groups in the clearing begin arguing. "We wait. They may take care of themselves, no?"

Emily steps up behind the older woman. "And while they are, I think you and I have our own business to attend to." The rest of the men are already staring at her, eyes wide and skin going pale as if they've seen a ghost (though she really isn't one, she'd have had to die for that and she actually – well, trifles). She just grins.

Adrienne turns slowly, brows furrowed over dark blue orbs that take in Emily's (alive _and _kicking) form. "But you – you're dead. I _killed _you!"

"Ah. About that." Emily brushes the sleeve of her shirt down over her shoulder, revealing the new scar. "Long story short, mate, you're a bloody awful shot."

The Frenchwoman gives her a look that is somewhere between anger and bewilderment, then throws her shoulders back, haughty. "So what is it you are looking for now? Revenge? With a sword? Do you think that will turn out any better for you this time?"

"Oh, I know it will." Emily draws her sword and twirls it with all her usual skill and precision.

Adrienne doesn't bother with theatrics. The men around them scramble to get out of the women's way as Adrienne draws her sword and charges Emily. Metal clashes, Emily parries every blow, but Adrienne matches her in skill, easy. This makes sense; she doesn't have to draw it from Emily. She's got a crew's worth of men close at hand to steal it from, and it must be easy, as they've been under her spell for weeks.

Emily just barely manages a spin out of the way as Adrienne's blade slices through the air and takes out a small chunk of a tree. Adrienne shrieks in frustration. Emily just smiles, wolfish. She does enjoy a challenge – makes it all the more satisfying when she _wins_.

* * *

><p>Jo's shield breaks again. The dark witch apparently decides she's had enough; she throws up her hands and before Jo can make another move there are thin red tendrils of magic snaking out – and around her too-thin frame. She struggles, but they have an iron grip. She's dragged out of the forest and out into the open, lifted into the air as the witch stares up at her and murmurs in an ancient language.<p>

* * *

><p>The pair of them dance their way out into the clearing, swords still clashing. Emily's beginning to tire of this game, but can't figure how to end it. As long as Adrienne's got that bloody medallion…<p>

The medallion!

She backs the Frenchwoman up, towards the cliffs. The terrain grows trickier the closer they get to them; rocks jut up, large and sharp in cases. Emily's not particularly advantaged here with her leg, but if she can just…back Adrienne up far enough, just far enough…

Adrienne thrusts forward with her sword, slicing through Emily's shirt – and barely missing her belly. With the Frenchwoman distracted by frustration, Emily is able to shoot out her peg leg to trip her, sending her stumbling back a bit – and right into a very large boulder. Adrienne flips right over it backwards, landing awkward and hard on her back and, it appears, cracking her head a bit on the rough, hard ground. Emily shoots forward, jumps the rock, and lunges with her sword, aiming for Adrienne's neck.

Adrienne gasps, eyes going wide, hands shooting up to feel at the flesh there…and covering up a wound that is shallow, and probably more startling than painful. What Emily was _really _going for is now lying on the ground beside the Frenchwoman, glinting in the light of the sun that is finally waning. The medallion.

Adrienne's hands fall away from her neck all too quick, now darting out to search blindly for what she realizes is missing, but Emily holds her sword up to the Frenchwoman's neck. "Keeping going like that and that little scrape gets a whole lot deeper." Voice hard and cold and deadly serious. Adrienne freezes, and nods once. Emily motions a bit with the sword. "Up."

Adrienne gets to her feet slow, wary of the blade that remains at her neck. Emily maneuvers with care so she's standing where Adrienne was, and then bends down to snatch the medallion up quick. She can feel its magic, powerful but not dark, and Emily thinks she'd like to know what goddess could have produced it and for what exactly.

Adrienne eyes the bit of gold. "I could get along without it."

"Oh, I know you could." It's true. Emily has suspected all along that Adrienne's knowledge of running a ship wasn't the medallions work; she'd watched her own father and learned well. "S'why I'm not letting you out of my sight, so _move_."

"My sword."

"You're more useless with that than you are with a pistol, that I do know. Forget it."

"Please – capitaine, it was a gift from my papa."

Emily snarls, growing annoyed. "If I have my way you won't be needing it. _Move_."

Adrienne does. Emily keeps a sharp eye on the Frenchwoman right up until something else entirely catches her attention, a cry of pain, and the voice… she's never heard it give a sound such as this before, but she'd know the voice of her sister anywhere. She spins around without thinking, eyes sweeping over… the witch she'd seen earlier. She's got Jo. The older woman is trapped by tendrils of dark magic, not a good sign since she looks rather the worse for wear even from this distance.

Before she can decide what to do, she feels a tap on her shoulder. Brows furrowed, she turns back around… and the world goes dangerous fuzzy as her head snaps back hard, and she only just manages to keep a grip on her sword. The medallion, on the other hand, slips from her fingers.

When she finally manages to regain her bearings, the Frenchwoman is coming back at her, sword and medallion both clutched in the wrong hand. She's shaking out her right, the knuckles already turning purple, and Emily is grudgingly impressed.

"Let me go." The Frenchwoman demands, already backing away.

"You can't win a fight against me now."

"And you have other problems, no? Josephine will be killed if you do not aid her."

"You _killed _me!" Emily growls, but she's the one fighting a losing battle.

"And yet here you are, so I am sure you will get over it."

Another shriek from Jo. Emily glances back, the hand holding her sword twitching as she can't decide what to do. Adrienne smirks. "You still have a heart. I think that is what _will _kill you one day. Au Revoir, Capitaine Turner." And she spins around and disappears back into the jungle. Her men follow, no doubt.

Emily can't…She wants the Frenchwoman…that lovely, satisfying image of the woman with a Turner blade stuck through her belly calls to Emily, but Jo is…

Bugger, bugger, bugger!

She shoves the pistol away and turns to Jo, still struggling to be free of the dark witch. Throwing up her hands, Emily summons all the power she can, holding little back, and sends it all to Jo. It engulfs the older woman, burning so bright the witch is now the one shrieking as she drops the older woman.

Emily staggers a bit, exhausted now and thoroughly, but she has to be sure, so she sprints forward and watches as the light around Jo fades. The older woman, who'd looked haggard and pale as death even from the distance Emily had been at, is getting to her feet and looking just herself again, strong and healthy. Very healthy indeed. She's glowing with the excess magic Emily had just dumped into her, just like the dark witch is. She clenches her fists, and the power explodes out again, throwing the witch back.

Figuring this means Jo's got things handled now, Emily turns back to where her crew were – only to find them sprinting out into the clearing, led by Riley.

* * *

><p>Emily's not sure of what's happening anymore. The dark witch is lying quite unconscious halfway across the clearing from where she had been, but still glowing, suggesting she's not hurt too bad. Jo is hovering close by her, but looking down at her own still glowing hands and then up and around, confused. The men the dark witch had been with are still going at the Spaniards, but both party's numbers are dwindling, and now the <em>Queen'<em>s crew is charging in…

"Wait!" Emily snaps, panic overtaking her. "Riley, wait, stop!" She heads him off, though he seemed to be heading in her direction anyway.

"Emily?" He asks, looking her over, and then shooting forward to pull her into a crushing embrace. "Gods, it's really you! But I thought…how did…" He pulls away to look at her again, bemused.

"You thought wrong, look, just, there isn't time." She gestures to the men fighting a ways away. "I need those men alive. You understand? It's the only way to get answers to any of this."

He nods, and glances at the rest of the crew behind him, and Emily watches them run off and almost follows but really ends up contemplating… are those caves really full of those jewels? The island was awful heavy protected, she has a feeling there's more going on here.

She picks out the one that seems the hardest to access, with a series of rocks and vines blocking the entrance, and climbs around and swats at the vines and finally manages to slip inside… only a few paces, because one of the Spaniards is blocking her path now, the one who spoke some English. Too tired to be worried about it, she brings up her hands and waits the brief moment it takes for her magic to build…

Except it's not building. She can feel it trying, swirling around her, but she can't contain it, can't gather it for use. She tries and tries, but she just can't grab a hold of it and the Spaniard is smirking now and without another word he turns and sprints off further into the cave. She follows.

.

There are traps set. Hundreds of ancient, clever traps. She finds out because she's nearly impaled stepping into a circle of sunlight; it looks like a bit of the caves ceiling had simply collapsed, but it was designed that way. Spikes shot out of the wall the moment she got close enough. The man she's chasing could be dead already, lightly as she's having tread herself, but then again, he could've known what he was facing too. She keeps going.

There're paintings on the walls that grow more intricate the further in she goes. Ships sailing on the oceans. Strange figures floating along in small boats. A pale man surrounded by jewels, facing down a dark haired woman in white who has swirls of blue twisting around her. Water, maybe? The woman in white makes Emily think of Calypso, but then who is the man surrounded by jewels?

Still treading carefully, she comes upon a room lit up by flickering torches. She's not precisely sure how they're lit considering they're also surrounded by cobwebs and look to have been in the same position for ages, but then, this isn't the strangest thing she's ever seen, is it? Glinting in the dim light, the walls of the cavern are studded with jewels – millions upon millions of the sapphires Adrienne had been hoping for. In the center of the room there's a pedestal of sorts situated, bathed in the sunlight from another hole in the roof of the cave. Sitting on the pedestal, is the largest jewel Emily has ever laid eyes on. It's in the perfect shape of a water drop, and seems to be an even deeper, clearer blue than any of the other jewels around. And Emily doesn't like it. Whatever this thing is, she can feel that it's what stopped her magic in its tracks earlier.

Maybe she'd been right. There really _is _more to all of this than just a quest for treasure. This is more than confirmed by the fact that the man she's been chasing is standing behind the pedestal, hands hovering over the water-drop-jewel as if preparing to snatch it up as he glares at Emily.

"Bastante pequeña mujer del diablo. Detenerme si puedes." He smirks a bit when her brows furrow, as she has no real idea what he'd said. All she can pick out is 'diablo', which she's heard before and knows means 'devil'. Not that that's surprising; it's hardly the first time the descriptions been put to her and will almost certainly not be the last. Before she can think on it too much further, he's snatching up the water-drop-jewel in one swift move, and turning to sprint off towards the back of the cave. She doesn't know how, but a small entrance opens up as he approaches, and with a last smirk sent back at her, he disappears.

The room around her begins to shake, and she can feel a strange magic at work. The god whose presence is so strong on this island is not happy. The caves are beginning to collapse. Emily wants to try and run after the Spaniard but she has no idea how he'd opened the other entrance, and if she doesn't get moving now she won't make it out the way they'd come.

The walls are starting to crumble. Sparkling blue gems rain down around her, and she watches in awe a moment before forcing herself to turn around and run for her life.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Not entirely satisfied with this chapter. Writer's block, ugh…<strong>_

_**Thanks for reading. :)**_

_**Spanish  
>Bastante pequeña mujer del diablo. Detenerme si puedes. – Pretty little devil woman. Stop me if you can.<strong>_


	76. Meanwhile 8: Alright, Sort Of

By the time she stumbles back out into the clearing, the cave collapsing in on itself behind her as she goes, the Spaniards are nowhere to be found. The men they'd been fighting have been corralled into the center of the clearing, watched carefully by Emily's men, and before she can make any kind of further move…

Someone's fist connects with her face. Again.

"Did – did I even deserve that?" She gasps out, bringing a hand up to feel at her bruising jaw. "I'm not certain."

"You threatened to keelhaul me." That's Jo. "And then you _died_." Her fists are clenched and her eyes are hard and she's really rather tiny so it's kind of funny how she manages to be rather intimidating. The rest of the men gathered around now are just watching, not seeming too keen to get in her way.

"Oh." Emily says, as if this make perfect sense. "Nothing to say as far as that first one goes, but it's not like I _wanted _that twisted little French gargoyle to shoot me."

"And none of that would have happened if you hadn't been fool enough to let her on your precious ship in the first place!"

"Ah. Well, when you put it that way…"

"When I put it that way it's no wonder you ended up locked in your own bloody brig!"

"Aye, well – not a mistake I'll be making again, is it?" She gestures to the older woman's still clenched fists. "If you'd like another go, best do it now while I'll still be forgiving about it."

Jo looks sore tempted, the way she almost brings her fist back up, but she crosses her arms instead. "Keelhaul me? Honestly."

"Oh, come on, I only half meant it."

"Half!"

"Tell you what, don't ever accuse me of _groveling _again, especially not for a deal with the Admiral, and we'll call it square."

There's amusement dancing behind the older woman's eyes now, though somehow the scowl manages to stay on her face. "Oh, alright then, square it is. I mean, that does sound just bad, now that I think of it. With that mouth of yours, the Admiral'd shoot you before you could manage any kind of deal anyway, I expect."

Emily is offended, but only briefly. She ends up just shrugging in a 'fair enough' kind of way, to which Jo gives an incredulous laugh. The men around relax as the tension eases as quick as it had built…and then Riley looks around a bit, a hard look in his green eyes. "Peg. Captain LaBelle…"

Adrienne. Oh. _Oh_. She'd forgotten just a moment there, but maybe, if she's quick enough…

Pushing past Jo and through the men gathered around, Emily takes off back into the jungle.

* * *

><p>She can just see the beach, hot on the heels of her six boys. Her <em>Sapphire <em>iswaiting a ways out from shore, and she's already working it out in her head. Emily wouldn't immediately follow, she's got quite a mess to deal with right where she is now. So, how far can Adrienne get? Hopefully, far enough.

She's just about to clear the jungle, is just at the point where the trees thin out and the ground beneath her becomes sand, when it happens. She trips, flying forward, nearly sailing face first into the sand. Her hand flies out to grab at the first steady thing it can find, and it just happens to be Louis in front of her. He stumbles as she flies into him and spins around with a thunderous expression…but his eyes widen in the next moment, the expression softening with bewilderment as he catches a glimpse of something over her shoulder.

"Capitaine." He says, and then she hears it.

The sound of a pistol being cocked.

She spins around, hand on her sword, prepared for anything at this point…except what she actually finds. Little Joshy Turner is just emerging from the tree line now, having run after her full tilt it seems as his chest is heaving. Clutched in both his hands, which are shocking steady, is a pistol. One of Adrienne's pistols, in fact, and she's impressed.

"Capitaine?" Louis again, wary and hesitant, unsure of what to do.

"Aller. Prêt du navire." She tells him, keeping her eyes on Joshy. "Je suivrai." Louis hesitates, but she glances back at him sharply, and he does as she commanded. She refocuses her attentions on the boy stood before her. "Your sister – she is alive. You saw this, no?"

"I saw." He says, still gasping a bit, but cold. "I saw you kill her, is what I saw. I thought…I thought she was gone. All those weeks, I hadn't said a word to her."

Adrienne nods, slow. "Pirates. Don't pretend you do not know what you are living with, boy."

"I know…"

"You know. You're a smart little one. And yet you chose to stay with her."

"She's my sister. She – she came back for me, she's a good woman. Not like you."

"Oh, but she and I are very much alike, though she would not admit it. But I think you know very well what she is and is not, so tell me. What does staying with her make you?"

"I…" He hesitates, unable to give an answer.

Adrienne watches him carefully. "Perhaps now is where you begin to make that decision. I understand, what you want." She nods at the pistol, still clutched in his hands. "So make your choice."

He hesitates, just briefly, before his expression turns fierce and determined. He cocks the pistol. "You don't think I'll do it. I'm just small yet, I know, so you think I won't – can't…"

"No." Adrienne shakes her head. "No, I know that look in your eyes. You could." She holds her hands out to either side a bit. "Do it."

"For my sister."

"You would do her proud, no? She thought you hated her." She taunts, pushing him, because this would be just perfect. "She thought you wouldn't care if she died, I'll bet. All that time alone in her own…"

"Stop – stop it!" His grip on the pistol tightens further.

"How would that have been? If she had died believing she did not even have her brother?"

He screams, a wild sort of rage forming itself into a noise and tearing its way out of his throat as he pulls the trigger.

.

A cold grin spreads Adrienne's lips as she watches his facial expressions. Shock and bewilderment turn to frantic, primal rage as he tries again and then a third time, but nothing happens. "You are feisty and clever as your sister, but you are young yet. Did you really think I would have sent my men off if the pistol was loaded still?"

He looks up at her, features contorted with anger, but he's thinking it through. "You just wanted to see if I would do it."

"I just wanted to see if you would do it." She bends down to retrieve her pistol. "And you did not disappoint. I very much wish I could be there on the day your sister realizes what she does to those around her. What she turns you into without trying. You, though. I like you, boy. So I will tell you that there are many who would admire you for what you have just done, to spite what your sister will likely have to say about it. You remember that." And with this, she turns to take her leave…

"She'll get you for this."

…and freezes only a few paces away, glancing back at him over her shoulder.

"My sister will have your head on a silver platter, _Captain _LaBelle. Just – just _you_ remember _that_."

She just snorts, softly, and nods before continuing on her way.

* * *

><p>She runs. She's exhausted to the point every muscle in her body aches and screams in protest as she gasps for breath, but still, she runs. Maybe, just maybe…if she can just… Jo calls after her, and Riley too, begging her to slow down, stop, <em>think<em>. But she can't slow down. She has to _finish it._

She stumbles to a halt as she reaches the beach, falling to her knees. Honey brown eyes trail along the vast expanse of blue until they land on the ship in the distance. So far in the distance. How did they make it so far? Her shoulders slump as a sick feeling twists her stomach in knots. Too far. But maybe, if she uses just a bit of magic…

"Peg, for the love of our goddess!" That's Jo, gasping as she comes up behind Emily. "What's in your head now?"

"Finish it. I have to finish it, I have to…" Emily babbles. Her head is all a mess. She can't think anymore. "She killed me. She _killed _me." She tries to use her magic. Uses all she has left in her to try and build up just enough…but she's near-died and then come back and then near-died again waltzing through that cave and then there was the showdown with Adrienne and the sprint through the jungle and…it's too much, and she's only half immortal anyway, there comes a point when enough is enough. She just can't manage anymore right now. "She killed me. She…"

A hand comes up to rest on her shoulder. "Peg." Jo again, voice softer. Emily starts a bit, looking up at her with eyes wide and wild, and the older woman goes on slowly. "It's too far. We'd never catch her up from here. I'm…I'm sorry."

"Emmy." Another voice, her brother sounding so grown up, too grown up and tired. "Please." Her eyes land on him, meet his big green ones, and he's pleading. "I'm sorry too, but let's…let's just be done for now."

Emily turns to stare back out at the ship growing ever smaller as it sails away. "Sorry. Somebodies always sorry." Brows furrowing, she scoops up some sand and throws it harmlessly in the direction of the _Sapphire_. "Why's it always got to be me?"

* * *

><p>They search the ship from stem to stern and find…well, things of interest only to Emily. For instance, the fact that the hold is situated in a way to suggest it was indeed meant to be some manner of slaver, though it wasn't put to that particular use on this journey. Actually, it's full of food and drink and plenty of other supplies the <em>Queen <em>had been running a bit low on, which is good fortune indeed. It means they won't have to find a port to stop off at before heading home.

Riley had been worried about Emily when she wandered off so absently, still babbling a bit to herself, but Jo had held him back from going after their captain. Perhaps it was a good thing she did. When Emily finally reappeared, she was sounding a bit more herself again, the time alone allowing her to sort herself out. In fact, by the time they make it back to the _Queen _and start loading the supplies they've plundered, she's all-too-typically suggesting a bit of a celebration. And the _Queen_'s crew takes to the idea with vigor after the strangeness of the past weeks.

Riley included. For the first time, he accepts the drink when he's offered it, and it's not long at all before he's singing merrily along with the rest of the men as Miss Gibbs playfully tugs him along for a dance. It really hadn't been his imagination, he notes. Emily had dumped so much of her own magic into healing the older woman that she's healthy as ever now, but she still seems _tiny _to Riley. It excites him. He hasn't felt like a boy anymore for so long…the idea he's starting, perhaps, not to look so much like one either is cause enough for celebration on its own.

He's so caught up in – well, _not _having something to be caught up in, it takes him far longer than it should to realize that Emily herself has disappeared. He ends up stumbling a bit away from where the rest of the men are crowded, breathing deep the cool night air and trying to think. When was the last time he'd seen her? How quick had she disappeared? Where had she gone? Down to her cabin, he thinks, probably. Though, after spending so much time in the brig surrounded by traitors, one would think the playful company of her men now would be all she wanted.

Well, maybe he'll just go see for himself. With a half full bottle clutched in his one hand, he makes his way on feet somewhat unsteady to see his captain.

"Emily?" He peers into the room, blinking in the dim light. He gets no response. Brows furrowed, he slips into the room. It's not as though he's ever not welcome, anyway. "Em-Cap-Peg." He stumbles over his words a bit. She doesn't like it when he calls her Emily, but he's having a hard time keeping that straight at the moment. "S'just me. Wanted to make sure you're…"

Oh. She'd left the lantern on her desk burning bright, so he hadn't thought, hadn't realized… her slender frame is laid out in the window seat, her legs curled in a bit towards her chest. Her brunette waves are splayed out around her head, making her look a dark angel, the prettiest you'd ever seen even with the scar marring her cheek – or, so he certainly thinks. Without thinking he reaches out a hand to brush a stray strand away from her face…but he stops himself in time. She looks so peaceful, he doesn't want to wake her. Instead, he turns away and makes to head back out of the room – but he's misjudged things a little. He ends up stumbling into the chair behind him and nearly falls over.

"Mmm." The softest of sounds reaches his ears, followed by a lazy yawn. "Riley?"

He spins back around, a bit too quick. He sways as the room spins, and backs into the desk. He grasps it to steady himself. "Erm, yeah. Sorry, I…"

She's sitting up now, runs a hand through her hair sleepily as she tilts her head at him in a curious way. "You alright, love?"

"M'fine. Jus', was won'rin – wondering where you'd gone. Di'n't mean to wake you, I jus'…" He can feel his cheeks growing more flushed than they were to start. "Bloody chair decided to trip me."

Her brows furrow at the same time there's a smile tugging at her lips, and her eyes are dancing with confused amusement. She glances down at the bottle still clutched in his hand. Realization dawns as her amusement grows quite visibly. "Chairs can do that, mean ole things." She gets to her feet and comes to face him, her hand trailing down to take the bottle away. He thinks, maybe, he's about to get a scolding, if a half playful one. But she meets his eyes, and winks as she brings the bottle up. "Didn't suppose you'd be the best at holding your rum. We'll have to work on that." She looks about to take a swig herself, but then just sets it aside. "For now it sounds as though you've had enough."

He rubs the back of his neck, eyeing her up. "Really am sorry I woke you. Mean…you mus' be tired."

She snakes a hand up to cup his cheek, leaning in – and up just a bit now, he notes – for a kiss. "Mmm." She rubs her hand against his cheek a bit. "Riley Connelly." She says, playful. "I do believe that's a bit of scruff I'm feeling there. Hadn't noticed that before."

His own hand shoots up to feel at his cheek, his eyes widening a bit, and then he's blushing as he realizes she's right. "S'ppose it had to happen sometime 'r other."

"Suppose." She pauses, just looking up at him a moment.

"What?" He asks, uncertain.

"Nothing. You're right, love, I'm exhausted. Come to bed?" She leads him over to her bed and goes to remove her leg brace, but he stops her. He fumbles with the straps a bit, but gets it off for her before slipping into bed as well. She plants a gentle kiss on his lips before curling into him, and he hadn't realized how tired he was himself. His head hits the pillow, and just like that…he's sound asleep.

* * *

><p>He thinks it's almost certainly Emily's doing when he wakes the next morning feeling – well, a little fuzzy, but not near as awful as the rest of the crew. She brushes it off as though she doesn't know what he's talking about when he asks, but he knows the effects of magic when he feels them now. He isn't upset, far from it; he's so happy to have her back, so happy that he wakes next to her and she's <em>alive alive alive<em>…he kisses her so deep and so fierce, pulls her into his lap and stays her there so firm, that she responds more vigorously than he can ever recall her doing before.

They spend the entirety of this morning in bed.

* * *

><p>"It's a fair question to ask." Jo. She's stood next to Emily at the helm, facing Riley. "I've no idea what's gone on these past weeks. You were the one keeping it all together this time."<p>

"Well, it's not as though there was much involved in that." He shrugs, careless. He's leaning back against the rail, arms propped up on it, and looking a bit the part of some over-handsome ginger demi-god. His shoulders have, finally, grown broader than the rest of him, and his cheeks and chin are shadowed lightly with stubble. "All I did was play nice with Captain LaBelle."

"But the men listened to you when they started to shake her spell." Jo counters. "And hearing what you were thinking, gods," she turns to Emily, "you should've heard him. Sounded not a bit like you, the way he was scheming."

Emily glances at Riley as a smile tugs at her lips. He's blushing a bit again, but attempts to play it off as though its nothing.

"Well. I can do clever when I try hard enough, but we all know who's the real queen of it." His eyes fix on her.

"Oh, now why'd you have to say that?" Jo asks Riley, and Emily can hear the eye-roll in the older woman's tone of voice. "Go straight to her head, it will."

"Straight to my head – he just pointed out everyone already knew that, how could it just now go 'straight to my head'?"

"Queen of clever?" Jo asks, pointed, hands on her hips now with one eyebrow raised.

"Well. I do quite like the sound of that. Queen…"

"See what I mean?"

"Ladies." Riley cuts in, laughing. "I think we've completely forgotten the point of this conversation – erm, what was the point of this conversation again?"

"The point was…" Jo sounds a little more serious again. "The point was maybe you ought to be first mate."

Riley sobers some as well, a hand coming up to run over the stubble on his cheeks. "Oh. Right. Where'd you get such a crazy idea again? Peg's supposed to be the one with all of those."

"Well… Just, it does strike one as odd, is all, a ship run by…"

"And since when did either of you care?"

"Look…" Jo huffs. "Forget the why of it. Peg, what do you think?"

Emily stares straight ahead and takes a moment to turn this over. She can't imagine why Jo would suggest this but figures if somethings wrong the older woman will tell her eventually. Really, they end up telling each other everything, eventually. "I think – I think I don't want to think about this now. I just got you all back. Let me bask in it a while 'fore you try to change things up on me again, eh?"

Jo nods in a 'fair enough' kind of way. "By the way, your brother's been hiding down in the galley, if you were wondering. I think you're going to have to come to him."

"I will." But right now it feels so good to be at the helm again she can't bring herself to hand it off to anyone else. "I will, I want to. Just…later."

Jo seems to understand. She makes her escape without another word. Riley stays, however, studying her but saying nothing. She isn't bothered. In fact, after a few moments, she quite forgets he's there. Her mind is already on to other things, because there are _so many _other things for it to be on to. The gem that could inhibit her magic, the witch down on the hold that was undoubtedly the culprit when it came to Emily's missing memories, the slaver that Emily's sure she'd spent some time on, and then Adrienne to top it all off…

Adrienne. Her grip tightens on the spokes of the helm as a knot forms in the pit of her stomach and her blood begins to boil…

"Emily!"

"What?" She snaps a bit, startled, turning to Riley – before re-tightening her grip on the helm. The weather is calm, why is the ship suddenly being tossed about like… oh. It takes her a moment to realize the knot in her belly somehow became a real thing. Her magic is acting up, making the waters around her choppy to match Emily's darker turn in mood. She uses the rest of what she'd inadvertently built up to calm the waters again, taking several deep breaths of the salty air. She can feel Riley staring at her, and glances at him again. "I'm fine."

"Mmm." He grunts, skeptical like.

She clears her throat, scowls a bit. "And _don't _call me that."

"Sorry. Just, you wouldn't answer."

A pause. "Captain. I'd answer to that." It's a request of some kind she's making, though she doesn't really know what it is she needs at this point.

He seems to understand, though, at least as well as anyone could. She's not looking at him, but she hears his footsteps – heavier than they were – as he comes up behind her, wrapping his arms around her. "Captain."

She leans into him a bit. "Captain."

He leans down, murmurs into her ear. "Captain." He presses a kiss to her neck. "You're the captain because it's over now. You didn't get her, but you won."

Emily lets out a breath and nods slow. "It'll do for now."

"For now, let's just go –," there's a pause, and his tone is a little more playful again as he goes on, "you know, I was going to say 'home'. Where is home, exactly?"

"Home is right here, standing on this deck surrounded by blue – if you ask me, that is. Not that anyone would."

He chuckles a bit. "Well, forget home then. Familiar, that would be nice. Familiar and safe. Relatively."

"That would be Shipwreck, I should say."

"Well, you're at the helm. You take us wherever you fancy, Captain."

Captain. She liked hearing it before, but now she'll never tire of it. She's the captain, her ship is her home, and things are - well, still not _good_. But alright, maybe, and she can more than live with that for now.

* * *

><p>He's silent when she enters the galley. His big green eyes meet hers just briefly before flicking away in what might well be fear, or something close to it anyway, and she instantly decides that – well, no. She simply isn't going to do this with him.<p>

She strolls across the room and pulls up a chair at a table, sitting in it backwards, arms resting on the back of it. "So."

"So." Joshy replies quietly, but apparently can't find the words to go on, because he doesn't.

Emily heaves a sigh. "So – I suppose we could go on like this a while. You'll be miserable and I'll be worried all the way until we get to Shipwreck where Papa will undoubtedly find some way to set us to rights because goddess knows the man can't just leave things be, but if I might shed a somewhat more pleasant ray of sunshine on this whole gloomy situation… it might be at least marginally less painful if you just say sorry and I forgive you because that's what siblings do, last I checked."

There's a long pause where he looks at her, a little wary, brows furrowed as though trying to figure something out. Then… "You know, Miss Gibbs is right."

That was not at all what she was expecting, but alright. She'll bite. "Miss Gibbs says quite a lot of things about me, and between you and I, I wouldn't believe about eighty percent of them if I was you, so…"

There it is. A smile, if a small one, and a chuckle, if a soft one. "She says one day someone's going to keelhaul _you_ just on the off chance it'll stop you talking."

"Ah. Well, it'll be there loss for the trouble, because I doubt it would work." She waves it off, and he laughs again, a bit louder. She beams. "There it is! Oh, I missed that sound."

He gets serious again too quick. He meets her eyes, but his are troubled and shining with unshed tears. "You really forgive me?"

"Oh." She runs a hand through her hair, heaving a sigh. "Joshy, I forgave Miss Gibbs, and believe me that is much more a feat after the conversations I had with her."

"But Emmy…" He doesn't go on. He does curl in on himself a bit, bringing his knees up to hug them to his chest.

She wants to go to him. To hold him and plant a kiss on his head and sing to him and promise him everything's just fine now, but something about the look in his eyes has her worried maybe it really isn't. "Joshy." She says, soft but firm. "Come on, out with it already. What's wrong?"

"You promised me once. You said you _couldn't _hate me."

"And I meant it." She meets his eyes again, making sure he believes her.

"I did something – I did something terrible."

"Terrible? I wonder, sometimes, if you understand who you're living with. There's nothing you could've done that would shock me. Best just come out with it."

He's trembling now. The tears spill over, just two, one trailing slowly down each cheek. "I killed her."

The words don't quite register. It takes her a moment. "Killed – killed who? When?"

"Captain LaBelle." His voice is small and he's shaking all over and Emily really doesn't understand now.

"Captain LaBelle." She shakes her head. "But Adrienne's not dead. She ran off, was a few leagues out by the time…" But where had he been? She hadn't seen him until they'd made it back to the beach. "Joshy, she's not dead. Is she? Tell me you didn't."

He shakes his head quick. "No. I mean, she walked away, she…"

The panic that had built eases just that quick. No, she couldn't hate him, not even if he had killed Adrienne. She'd _mourn _for him and what he'd left behind too quick. "Alright, just take a breath and explain, slow and easy."

"I stole her pistol. It was before you even appeared, cause she told me to hide and I wanted… well, anyway then I saw her running back for the beach and I thought – I mean, you were _dead_. Emmy, please, I mean, you weren't just gone, I thought…"

She softens. "I wasn't coming back. There's a difference."

"And I had her pistol and she – she kept talking, saying these awful things, and she took you from me and she'd made me think all those lies about you and I just, I… Emmy, I pulled the trigger." He meets her eyes again, and she recognizes that look now. "It wasn't loaded, but I didn't know and I pulled the trigger. I killed her!"

Never quite sure how to deal with things of this nature, she makes the trek over to him with tentative steps, but she needn't worry about how to help. He throws his arms around her, and somehow they end up on the floor, her just holding him. Sometimes, just sometimes, he really does sound so very grown up but in this moment he is very much just a boy, head resting on her chest as he clutches her shirt, though he doesn't cry. And for a long moment she just lets him as she softly sings the song she'd sung to him the first time he'd asked for this.

She tries to come up with something to say. But it seems this is one of those rare instances when she truly has no words. So she just quietly decides she'll leave him with their Papa in Shipwreck next time the opportunity arises because she isn't good for him (is worse for him than her Papa had been for her) and always knew it but can't get around it now.

She's making a pirate of him. And for the first time she understands why her Papa gets so upset with her.

* * *

><p>It's been so long since she's had the luxury of the rum that she thinks she really might be in heaven when she takes the first sip of the bottle she finally allows herself to retreat with. Her brother's settled down some, is probably sound asleep already with the rest of the crew, and there'll be no one else come to bother her now. So that single sip quickly turns into several and before she knows it the bottle is slipping from her fingers, drained of every drop, and she's falling hard asleep herself.<p>

She doesn't dream of Alex, but thinks nothing of it this time. She's passed out so cold, she doesn't remember dreaming at all.

…

"Peg." His voice is soft, his touch feather light against her cheek. "You have to come back to us sometime, you know."

All at once she is more than aware of, well, two things really. One, its morning. Two, she might've overdone it after going so long without a drop of anything besides water. She doesn't manage much beyond a groan as she shifts onto her back and throws an arm over her eyes. A sigh and the sound of footsteps, and Riley presses something into her other hand – a bottle. "Perhaps not the healthiest of solutions, but I'm told it helps, and you'll want to be good and awake for the news I bring."

Beyond caring, she brings the bottle to her lips and takes a hearty sip, then another before collapsing back onto her bed. "News?" She prompts him.

"The witch. She's awake."

And now so is Emily. She's out of bed so fast Riley scarce has time to get out of her way. "How long?" She slurs a bit as she staggers around her cabin, trying to dress herself as she'd been wearing nothing beyond her shirt and pants.

"About two hours now."

"You waited that long to wake me?"

"You barely stirred when I first tried."

She huffs, annoyed (though at what, she's not even certain), and stalks out.

…

She's more than a little on edge. This witch is _strong_. Stronger than Emily and using a sort of power that neither Emily or Jo can begin to understand. That being said, why is the old hag still in the brig? With so much power at her fingertips, she could snap her fingers and be miles away, anywhere she chose. Emily just doesn't get it, and it makes her very, very nervous.

She doesn't like not knowing.

"Ahaha, here she is, here she is, hello my beauty."

Emily hesitates several paces away from the hag's cell, a chill going down her spine at the way the witch coos at her. "You know me?" Emily asks, wary.

"Oh I know, I know all about you Captain Peg, so pretty, so strong his Captain." The hag croaks, seeming _excited _in a way that's unnerving.

His captain? Whose captain? "So – it was you. My memories…"

The witch cackles as she darts forward to clutch the bars at the front of her cell. "Remember me, remember me, you can't remember me." She taunts and cackles some more.

"I'm beginning to wonder if I'm better off." Emily mutters, grimacing, but plows on. "Why did you do this to me? Are you working for someone?" She's having a hard time imagining anyone gaining enough control over the mad old hag to make her do anything.

"Work work work for him, he keeps hunters away," the hag pulls away from the bars, sits herself down, curls in on herself some, "no more hunters, no more, no more."

Well, that explains that. Balance. For every evil in the world there must be something to counter it; apparently, even beings like the old crone need a place to find refuge. "Who is He?"

The hag looks up, and two beady, glowing eyes meet Emily's. "Admiral, Admiral, handsome Admiral, wants the Captain, wants her, needs her."

"The Admiral. Well, should've seen that coming." Emily runs a hand through her hair and closes her eyes against the hangover she's still fighting. "Why would he want my memories erased?"

"Control the Captain, needed control, pretty jewel on the island."

"And he needed me not to remember for that? I don't understand."

"No map. No map, island big, island dangerous, needed map." Her babbling is becoming less coherent.

Emily pauses a moment, trying to piece something together. "So the map of the island was missing to begin with. He needed another way to get to the jewel. So – Adrienne…" But this is where she gets stuck. It just isn't fitting together.

The old hag looks up at Emily again, and for just this moment, her eyes seem a little more clear. "Smart little Captain. Pretty and strong and smart. Worthy opponent, his little Captain. So much fun. Job is done now, jewel is his, I fix the Captain."

Brows furrowed, Emily steps forward a few hesitant steps. "Now wait…"

"Can't, can't, have to go, hunters catch up, handsome Admiral keep me safe. Have to go, have to go, come, come, quickly Captain."

Understanding that she may not get anything she needs if she doesn't take a leap of faith, Emily crosses the space between her and the hag's cell. The old crone reaches out, abrupt, and pulls Emily closer. Emily gasps, eyes widening as she tries to pull away but the hag is _strong_.

"Remember me, remember me, remember me now. Lots of fun, we meet again, hope so Captain. Practice, practice, come and challenge me. We'll have fun, so much fun." The old crone's hands begin to glow a brighter red than the rest of her, and the aura envelopes Emily as well. "Bye bye, Captain."

A cloud of dark smoke swirls into existence, and Emily crumples as the old hag vanishes into nothingness. Eyes closed, she clutches at her head, gasping as the pain increases, grows sharper, more intense until…

Peace. All is calm, all at once. Sweet relief.

She remembers.

* * *

><p><em><strong>Ok, so anything resembling a schedule for updates on my end has been completely obliterated. That being said, I promise I'm alive, and I'm still writing. Thanks for reading! :)<strong>_

_**French:  
>Aller. Prêt du navire. – Go. Ready the ship.<br>Je suivrai. – I will follow.**_


	77. Meanwhile 9: Understanding

She remembers.

She remembers waiting in the brig of that slaver for what easily amounted to a day or two. It makes sense, now, why they'd kept her separate from all the other girls in the hold. Emily was different, dangerous, and they weren't sure what to do with her besides. With only one leg, she wasn't exactly the sort of goods they were looking for.

.

"You'd fetch me a lovely price." It's the Captain. She's sees him clear, not like in her dream. He's short and old, and this makes the predatory way in which he circles her all the more disturbing. He takes her hair in his hands, leans in to smell it. "It falls like a waterfall, when cared for properly." She trembles, enraged and disgusted, as he pulls her chin up to face him roughly. "And those lips…"

But he doesn't kiss her. He sends her back to the brig, where she stays for days more.

.

There's a girl they send down, younger than Emily and more subdued. She comes once a day with a bucket of water, some cloths for washing, and soap – quite the luxury, and Emily wonders why they'd be wasting it on a pirate that's not actually of much use for their purposes.

Anyway, she doesn't complain. This is the only time she is left alone. Bathing requires clothing to be removed, and Emily stubbornly refused to do it the first time when her guards didn't leave, so now they do. They stand just outside the door, no doubt, but plans begin brewing all the same…

.

The girl is shy and quiet, but stronger than she appears, Emily thinks. She glares at the guards as she enters, insists on scrubbing Emily's long brunette waves herself – and over all, takes her sweet time. It's a quiet form of rebellion, but a form of it none the less.

"Where are you from?" Emily asks one day, quiet so the guards can't listen. "England?"

"Scotland." She replies in a distinct accent. "But the others, they're from somewhere 'round London."

"So there are others. How many?"

The boards outside the door to the brig creak. The girl freezes a moment, and then doesn't answer for several more. "Twenty of us even. We were all of us headin' for the colonies, ta a finishin' school in Virginia."

"Twenty. My gods. All kept well, like you?"

"They're careful not ta bang us up, if that's what yer meanin'."

A pause, Emily thinks this through. "Alright, now tell me this. If I told you I might very well be able to get us out of here, would you be willing to help?"

"And just how do yeh think yer goin' ta do that?"

"Well…I'm working on that. But first things first, they'll have to bring us in to port somewhere eventually. If I can find out when that's happening…"

The girl casts a glance at the door. "The boys on this ship, they're awful frisky. Catch 'im lookin' at me when they let meh come down to help with yeh each day." There's a long pause, and she's just begun combing out the knots in Emily's hair. "Ah could find out where we're headed. Maybe even when we'll get there."

Emily turns sharply to her, eyes widening a bit. "No. That's hardly what I…"

But the girl is smirking, just a bit. "There's a reason mah parents decided to send meh away. Ah didn't say Ah _think_ Ah can find out. Ah said Ah _could._" The smirk fades, and now she just looks nervous again. "But yeh'll have ta promise me it'll be worth it."

Emily stares at her, one hand coming up to rub the back of her neck. "Cheekier little thing than I thought, you are. What's your name, anyway?"

"Freya."

"Alright, Freya. I've got a trick or two up my sleeve, but you have to promise you won't go saying anything about it, not even to the others."

Her brows furrow a bit in bewilderment, but she nods. Emily brings her hand up, hesitating just a bit. This could go very wrong, depending on the girls reaction, but it's the best she's got, so she conjures up her magic. Nothing big or spectacular; she pulls a bit of water out of the small tub that had been brought down, and plays with it a little. It winds its way up her arm, snakelike, and then Emily sends it shooting out to splash her new friend.

The girl giggles softly, sounding delighted. "Yeh're one of the chosen ones! Now why didn't yeh tell me that from the start?"

"Chosen ones?"

"It's what we call those touched by a goddess. Meh mum's got the gifts, too."

"Well, then you know what I have to offer. But I have to know when. Fighting back now won't do us any good, we've got nowhere to go."

"Now that, yeh just leave to me."

.

The next day Freya doesn't walk up to Emily's cell so much as she sashays, hips swaying, and she's smirking in a way that tells Emily they've got what they need. Emily finds herself amused as she watches the pretty little Scottish girl set down the tub and then turn to glare at the guards, expectant.

They scowl, but leave as they always do.

Freya turns back to Emily, hurried in her excitement. "Three days. And I know where we're stoppin'." Emily hushes her, worried the guards might here, but then gestures for her to go on. Freya does. "I heard the men goin' on about it when they thought I was sleepin'. They were tryin' ta come up with a plan ta keep us a secret because the closest port now is Port Royal."

"Port – Port Royal." Emily lights up at this. Really, this is a very good thing. Port Royal is an honest port, a respectable one. She can get the girls some help there. But… it presents a problem for her. She's heard rumors of the Navy trying to again make the port the stronghold it had been for them, and there's even been talk of the Admiral himself buying up some property there. Breaking free at Port Royal will mean safety for Freya and the other girls – and nothing short of the noose for Emily, or worse. "It would be there, wouldn't it?"

"What's the matter?" Freya looks worried now. "This is good, aye? If – if yeh use yehr gifts, maybe we can all break free there, and surely there'll be someone who'll help us."

"Oh, there'll be plenty willing to help you, Freya." Emily runs a hand through her hair, sighing. "You and the other girls, you'll all be just fine. I'll make sure of it or… well, I'll just make sure of it."

There's a pause, and Freya's bright mood didn't last long. "But you, yeh're not like us. Yeh never told me yehr name, yeh know."

"I'm called Peg. Captain Peg Leg Turner." She reaches down to knock on her wooden appendage.

"Captain… a pirate."

"A pirate."

"In Port Royal – oh, but pirates are hanged, though!" Her eyes widen, and one freckled hand comes up to hover over her mouth. "But surely, if yeh're helpin' us, Ah mean Ah've never heard if a pirate like you before, tryin' ta help us like yeh are, and…"

"Don't." Emily cuts her off, firm. "I said I'll make sure you get home. Beyond that, you're not to concern yourself with me." Her tone firm as if she were talking to one of her men on the _Sea's Queen,_ telling them to keep to the code.

Freya plants her hands on her hips, looking frustrated now in a way that reminds Emily a bit of Jo. "Oh, and what sort of an order is that ta give? What kind'ah person would just leave behind the girl who's the only reason she's alive?"

Except Jo wouldn't argue. She'd scowl, look sorry, but she'd never argue because… "A pirate." Emily replies simply.

"Well, not that this is news to yeh I'm sure, but I'm not…"

"No, you're not, but if you act too friendly with me they could get the idea to hang you as well, so you'll do as I say!" Emily near growls, and this time Freya backs off a bit, startled. "Now, hush up. I think I've an idea of how to work this…"

.

Three days later Emily finds herself knelt at the front of her cell, hands clasping the bars desperately as she pleads with the men that are guarding her. "Please, I _need _to speak with him."

"What would make ye want to do that of sudden, anyway, girly?" Annoyed.

"Because – because I think I've an idea of how to settle all of this now."

"Cap'n ain' going to be interested in dealin' with you." Scoffing.

"Oh, but what if that deal could bring you all a real shiny penny? I'm worth a fortune, me, 'specially alive and well as you lot've been kind enough to keep me."

"Oh, really?" Curious, if skeptical.

"Don't tell me you haven't heard of Peg Leg Turner? I mean, s'not like you'll find too many others like me running 'round."

"S'ppose not…" Intrigued, glancing down at her leg.

"Come on, then, lads. What've you got to lose, anyhow? Tell that ole Captain of yours just what I've said."

.

They do. She waits minutes, maybe fifteen of them, before she's being escorted to the Captain's cabin. He's sitting behind his desk, looks up when she enters and shoos out the man who'd brought her.

"Speak." He says simply.

She hesitates, lets out a breath, gathering her wits and taking a few tentative steps further into the room. "You knew I'd be worth something. Else why would you have kept me? You don't seem like the sort to be bothered by the idea of just, erm, _disposing _of things you don't need."

"I've kept you, because a girl with so much spirit might intrigue the right buyer enough to have him paying double what I could get for any of the girls down in the hold."

"Well – be that as it may, you'd have a hard time of it, trying to sell such damaged goods, you said so yourself, so…" She stutters a bit, nervous, hesitant.

"Get on with it, girl, I haven't got all day." He spits, and she starts a bit.

"The Admiral, you know of him?"

"Yes, of course, everyone knows of him. And make no mistake, Captain. I know of you as well."

At once her eyes narrow, and she stalks across the room to lean over the desk. "Then you know of the price on my head. And the only reason you don't actually know what to do with me is because the Admiral isn't so willing to go off dealing with lecherous, scum of the earth old worms like you. Which is why you're going to listen to me, and listen well."

She expects he'll be angry now, so doesn't flinch when he shoots to his feet and raises a hand as though to hit her. He looks intrigued as well, though, when she doesn't back off. "Go on. But be _very _careful how you do so."

"All you're concerned about is the coin, and I can get you that." She stands straight, throws her shoulders back and plants a hand on her hip. "Let me loose soon as we make port. I'll make for the fort, turn myself right in, and point them in your direction. I'd bet my very life on them paying you off soon as they have me, just to be rid of you."

Now he laughs, loud and harsh. "You're very life, eh? That's just what you'd be doing, stupid girl! You'll be hanged by the morrow!"

"Admiral wanted me alive and well, I'll have you know, and that's all just trifles besides." She waves him off. "Point is, you'll be paid. And even if you aren't, you've got all those girls down in the hold. What do you need me for, anyway?"

.

Apparently, not for much. A few short hours and she finds herself marching up the docks of Port Royal, head held high and steps determined. Because the thing is, the plan she'd given Freya – involving Emily breaking the girls out by way of her magic – that had been a lie. Sure, she could've done it that way, and maybe she would've succeeded, but her magic is unpredictable, and especially when Emily is excited in some way. She wouldn't be able to guarantee it would all work out.

But this way – this way she knows will work. She'll wind her way straight up to the massive fort up on its cliff and turn herself right in and tell them all about the poor girls trapped on the ship at the docks. And they'll believe her because what other reason will she have for strolling straight into the lion's den? Some part of her scoffs in protest at this. What is she doing anyway? She's _free_. She should run for it. But there's nowhere for her to go, really, and she couldn't possibly. All those other girls…

She's not sure she could live with herself, leaving them to their current fate. Even now, it seems, she still has boundaries. One day they'll likely get her killed, but it's alright. She has a feeling today is not that day.

.

"Now. There's a good way to fulfill your own death wish." The voice is female and familiar, vaguely. The remark seems meant to be sarcastic, but there's a note of genuine surprise beneath it.

Emily freezes, unsure of why the words had jumped out at her from amidst the cacophony of other voices around her.

"Yes, I am speaking to you."

Emily turns slowly, scanning the groups of people around her until her eyes land on a woman – why is she so familiar? She's tall, perhaps even a bit more than Emily, but not as boyish slender. She's dressed quite fine, draped in what is no doubt the latest fashions, all lace and fine trimmings. Large, blue-green eyes study Emily as close as Emily is studying her.

Emily's brows furrow. "Beg pardon, miss?"

The woman opens her mouth, closes it, seems to be thinking. Speaks, finally. "Forgive me. I meant only that the people of this town may not take very kindly to a woman dressed so…" She raises a single brow. "Eccentric."

Brows furrowing a bit, Emily glances down at herself. Though she's been scrubbed quite clean by now and her hair lays over her shoulders, soft and shining, she's still wearing trousers with her wooden leg in full view. She looks back up to meet the eyes of the fine lady before her. "Ah. Well, not to worry, miss, I don't expect it'll matter much longer. If you'll excuse me."

"Now, wait a moment, please." The woman sounds a touch more urgent. "If you'll forgive a poor maid her nosy nature, why should it not matter any longer?"

"Why would it be any concern of yours?" Emily snaps, a bit more dangerous, trying to make her back off.

But the woman just throws her shoulders back, haughty. "Well, you make it sound as though you're in a bit of trouble. I was going to offer some assistance, but please, keep right on with whatever your original plan was. The occasional hanging is the only half interesting thing that occurs in this town, anyway."

Emily turns halfway to go, knows she should, she's even got directions from someone… but she just can't now. She turns back to the woman, wary. "And just who are you, miss, to think you could be of any help to me?"

"My brother's sister." She replies, rather cryptic.

Emily just stares at her. Familiar, familiar, where have they met before? "You're brother's…" She finds herself flashing back, months and months ago now, dressed all in finery no different than the woman before her, attending a party on Alex's arm, all the way in London. Her eyes widen a bit. "Miss Norrington. Forgive me, I've much else on my mind."

Laurel Norrington glances around a bit. No one seems to be paying particular attention to them, but… "It's alright Captain, I am quite sure I make a much less memorable personality overall than you and we have met but once. Come, with me. I was not exaggerating when I said I would be willing to offer some assistance."

Emily shakes her head. "I'm not sure _how _you could be of assistance."

"I have more pull in this town than you might think. Or hadn't you noticed that no one has glanced in your direction since we've begun speaking?" Emily had noticed. This demonstrates quite the level of respect for Miss Norrington on the part of the people around them. Laurel goes on. "Come with me to some place where we might discuss it more openly."

"Why would you so want to help me?"

"Because I've never met anyone willing to stand against my brother in such a way as you have and continue to do. Please."

It's another option. It's a long shot, but it's an option that at least puts off the plan that has Emily walking right off to some manner of certain doom.

She follows.

.

She lives in a mansion. Really. It's massive, set on a few acres of well-kept land atop a hill overlooking the rest of the town. All balcony's and glass doors and polished wood and crystal chandeliers, Emily wonders what would prompt the Admiral to gift his sister such a luxurious place to stay. Assuming…

"I presume your dearest brother is…well, he's not here, is he?"

"No. This was more a place to tuck me away all neat and sitting pretty so I'd leave him be. Not that I am complaining."

"Miss Norrington, welcome…" A man – the butler, maybe? – stops short as he catches sight of Emily, eyebrows raising.

Laurel steps in, quick and firm. "She is my guest, and she will be treated as such while under the roof of this house. We will be in the parlor, I expect not to be disturbed, understood?"

He hesitates, but nods, bowing a bit in difference. "Yes, Miss."

Laurel leads Emily into a lavish parlor room with a fireplace and cushy chairs and sofas and a large piano set in the corner of the room. A large set of windows on the far wall allows bright, beautiful sunlight to spill into the room and give everything an airy feel. Emily runs a hand through her hair as she looks around, feeling out of place as ever amongst all the light and finery.

"Please, sit Captain."

Emily shakes her head, blowing out a breath. "I don't have much time, Miss Norrington."

Laurel sits herself in one of the high backed chairs, straight and at attention. "Then you'd best start explaining so I can decide what to do for you."

"I don't know where to begin. Straight to the point, I suppose…" She sits herself across from Laurel, leaning forward. "How I've got here is a long story, but what's important is that there's a ship down at the docks with a hold full of innocent little ladies-in-training, and if I don't find some way to get to them, the ships going to sail off, probably to Tortuga, where the girls will be – just, that can't happen. I promised. I said I get them out. The best plan I could come up with was to turn myself in and hope the boys up at the fort would be willing to listen when I told them what I just told you."

Laurel scowls a bit. "Well, they might listen, but that was an awful plan all the same. You'd be at my brother's mercy."

"Aye, well… now you know why I didn't give myself much time to think on it."

"I suppose it's a very good thing I spotted you traipsing through town as you are here. I can go up to the fort myself and tell them of these girls, they'll listen to me, though they'll want to know how I got the information."

"So…you tell them." Emily replies, easy. "Journey through town for you gives me a little more time, anyway."

"I believe the point here was to keep you out of trouble, Captain."

"What is it with you people? That girl on the ship wasn't too happy with the way I had things planned, either." Emily shakes her head. "This is about the girls, Miss Norrington, I can look after myself just fine."

The hint of a smile tugs at Laurel lips. "Personally, I find enjoyment in anything that might get under my brother's skin. As for this other girl, perhaps it is that tales of a female pirate are unique enough to form quick and travel quicker, and not all of the things one hears are so nefarious in nature as you might assume. You're becoming something of a fairytale." With this, she stands, brushing off her dress. "Anyway, I shall come up with something. In the meantime, I insist you stay here. I'll have my lady's maid fetch you something more comely to wear, and we can discuss what's next for you when I return."

Emily brings a hand up to rub her temples. Impossible, stupid…why does no one _listen_? "Miss Norrington. Perhaps even you don't fully understand. Your brother may not be so forgiving if he finds I've even stepped foot in this lovely little castle of his. I'm effectively trying to keep the rest of you out of trouble as well, and you're making that far more bloody difficult than it need be."

Laurel just raises her eyebrows, apparently amused. "I'm beginning to get the idea you're a little too used to giving orders. It's no wonder you frustrate my brother so. Why not get some rest while you can, Miss Turner. You look as though you sorely need it." And with that Laurel Norrington sweeps out of the room, leaving Emily to collapse back into her chair tiredly.

She much prefers dealing with other pirates, she decides.

.

"Oh, do come now miss, ye'll only wear yourself out further with all that pacin' about." The maid frets over her, seeming genuine in her worry. "Why not come with me to the kitchens where I can find ye somethin' to eat, ye must be terrible hungry by now."

Emily just huffs as she trips over the dress the maid had found for her. It's a little big in odd areas, and she's not used to trying to move beneath so many layers. "I'll do whatever you say soon as your mistress returns."

"Oh, but you don't even know when that'll be. Miss Norrington's well liked in town, they'll listen to her, there's no reason to fret."

"No reason, indeed."

Emily spins around quick as the ever more cultured voice reaches her ears. Laurel is just sweeping into the room, looking tired but not discontented. "Good news, then?" Emily asks, hopeful.

Laurel nods. "They were quite curious as to how I came by the knowledge of this ship of yours, but willing to see to it all the same. I can't say for certain what will be done with the ship's captain and crew, but I can promise the girls will be well looked after until they are returned home."

Emily lets out a breath, collapsing into the nearest chair as the tension she'd built up eases all at once. "Thank you."

The maid, seeming to sense that any further conversation will be even less her business than usual, slips quietly out of the parlor, shutting the doors behind her.

Laurel is silent a moment, studying Emily. "You were truly worried for those girls."

Emily nods. "I was. They didn't deserve what they had coming to them and I made a promise. I don't do that unless I intend to keep it."

"An admirable trait for a – well, let's see, what are all of the official charges? Basic piracy, thievery, threatening the Admiral himself, escapes from custody."

Emily chuckles, shaking her head. "And yet you seem very intent on this thieving, degenerate fugitive staying here under your own roof."

"You amuse me." Laurel replies, simple. "And anyway, it's rather late now, you'd be far better off staying here."

So, somewhat against her better judgement, Emily does.

.

First for just a few days. When she tires of pacing the walls of the massive house, she slips out to wander the town a bit. She's nervous at first, tries to stay out of everyone's way, but it soon becomes apparent that no one's noticing anything too terribly off. In fact, everyone's being quite friendly in a way that she's not experienced since she was just a little girl.

And it's on this day that Laurel convinces her to really stay, just a while. They find her something just a touch nicer to wear, call her a distance cousin, and that is that. And it's all so strange, so surreal, but it's nice to realize she can maybe, just a little while, truly _relax_. She'll get bored of it eventually, she knows, but for now…

She figures it can't hurt to enjoy it while it lasts.

.

The calm and the quiet are so different from what she's used to. The town is peaceful, relatively, and the people kind and content. She wonders at how they notice nothing strange about her, for surely there are areas where it is more difficult to keep up the pretend. She worries on occasion that something in the way she speaks or in her mannerisms will give her away, but the people of this town really do adore the fiery but generous Laurel Norrington. On her word, they look the other way.

The problem is, Emily doesn't have any of the usual forms of distraction here. In fact, traipsing about pretending to be anything even halfway resembling a fine lady just makes her think of Alex; makes her wish he could see her now. Makes her wish she'd been brave enough to follow him when she had the chance.

And makes her wish she was strong enough now to forget him and move on, as she's sure he long since has.

.

His lips trail hot kisses along bare skin as she lets out breathy moans and soft chuckles. He's going slow, building her up with tentative ministrations and refusing to let her return the favors just yet. She's hyper aware of her surroundings – feels the ship swaying beneath them and the lightest of evening breezes gliding across her warm skin, hears the raucous noise of the general riff raff that occupies Tortuga going about their usual evening activities.

It comes in flashes, but it feels so _real_.

"Alex." She breathes, as he's moved down low and is paying her such special attentions. "Alex, goddess – wait, let me…" She tries to push him away, tries to make him stop before – wants him to enjoy it too. Why won't he let her?

He looks up at her, chocolate brown eyes soft and almost sorrowful. "My Emily."

"Alex. Alex, please." She sits up. Runs a hand over his chest, slow. Leans in to cover his lips with her own.

"My Emily." He's cupping her cheek, and his eyes – so full of hurt and sorrow and why? She doesn't understand.

"Alex – I lo-I lov-" But she chokes on the words, they won't leave her mouth.

"I always wanted to believe ye meant it."

"I did. I lo-… Alex, I mean it."

He's pushing her back down, kisses her stomach and lower again. "My beauty. My queen."

"Alex – let me, please…" She tries a last time. She doesn't like this, blast it all, he's supposed to be enjoying it to! "Alex, I lov…"

He pulls away. All at once, is glaring up at her with those eyes… "I always knew ye didn't mean it. If ye were so worried about me, after all, why'd ye let me leave?"

"…why'd ye let me leave…"

"…why'd ye let me leave…"

.

She gasps awake, tears threatening to spill as she stares up at the ceiling above her. Why does she keep having these awful dreams of him? She misses him so much it hurts. The dreams are just plain torture. And it's always the same. She tries to tell him, tries to _show _him how much she loves him, but he won't have it, won't believe her. And then he asks, he always asks, as if it really were her fault he'd left.

It wasn't, she always tells herself. It was not her fault. It made sense. She couldn't give him what he needed and she knew it and he couldn't give her what she needed and he knew it and then they both realized the other just – couldn't. And that was it. It made sense.

It made _sense_.

The thought occurs to her that she's beginning to miss Riley too now, in ways. He's been a close and constant companion since Alex's leaving, and though he is _not _Alex, he does his best to give Emily whatever it is she seems to need.

…which leads her to the thought that she's using him, plain and simple, and was that what it had all been about? Working so hard to make sure those girls would be alright. Some part of her still wants to be _better_, but freeing those girls hardly redeems her.

Now she desperately wants a drink, but she's not likely to find anything of the sort she's hoping for here unless she slips out to one of the taverns down by the docks. Say, that's not a bad idea…

Half hoping she might find a bit of trouble as well, she doesn't bother to change into anything less conspicuous than one of the few simple dresses Laurel had found for her to wear. With this, she also straps on the sword Laurel had managed to retrieve for her. Expecting she can probably make it back before the lady in question awakes for the day, she tiptoes her way down the stairs and to a side entrance through the kitchen's. With no one around, late as it is, she goes quite unnoticed as she slip silent out into the night.

.

She strolls in and across the tavern – the most raucous Port Royal has to offer, not that this is saying much compared to what she's used to – and even puts a bit of swagger in her step as she does so. She smiles as she feels countless sets of eyes trailing over to her, the activity around her dying down a fraction as she goes. Comfortable as can be, she strolls right over to the bar and leans over it a bit as the older woman behind it just raises a brow at her, looking half amused if Emily's not mistaken.

"Now, I don't know just wot you're 'opin' for, strollin' right in 'ere like that…"

"A drink." Emily replies, plain. "Strongest you've got."

The woman shakes her head, but gives Emily what she'd asked for. Emily produces a few coins and throws them down before the old barmaid, holding up her drink as she does. "Ta." She turns to survey the room as she sips from her drink – pleasantly surprised to find it is, in fact, rum.

"Quite the nightly escapade for a relation of the Norrington's, even a distant one, wouldn't you say?" It's a man, nothing about him particularly special. He's not tall, but not short, not young, but not old. His voice stands out a bit, but only because it is a tenor rather high pitched for a grown man. He's just come up next to Emily, watches the bars other patrons instead of looking at her.

She glances at him, and relaxes back against the bar, arms propped up behind her. "Very distant. I'm afraid Laurel's lavish lifestyle here gets rather boorish after a time. If I am quite honest."

He laughs now, and something about it is off in a way that doesn't sit right with her at all. "Ah yes, I suppose it would feel rather slow, for you."

Emily knows full well by now that something is up, but sees no point in getting worked up over it. It was about time, anyway. "Not quite what I'm accustomed to, is all." She fishes, wondering how he'll respond. Pretending not to be bothered, she takes a swig of her drink.

"Just what is it Miss Norrington tries to pass you off as? A girl of the lovely English countryside. Used to the relative freedoms allowed a farmer's daughter."

"Fair bit more than we're allowed 'round here, anyway." She relaxes her speech a little, baiting him.

"A young woman, slipping out in the dead of night to a rundown tavern full of drunken sailors?" He snorts at the ideas apparent ridiculousness. "That's a fair bit more freedom than a young lady ought to be allowed anywhere, I expect." A pause. He turns a bit to eye her up. "Unless, of course, she was foolish enough to think herself one of them."

No doubts about it, then. He knows. "Well." She watches as one group of men shout out drunkenly, demanding more ale, as another breaks into song – loudly, and rather off key. She holds up her mug to the man next to her. "I could hold my drink twice as bloody well, if nothing else." To prove the point, she brings the mug to her lips and downs what's still in it, wiping her mouth with her sleeve as she turns to shove the mug back onto the bar behind her.

"I was made aware you could be rather –," he pauses as she belches softly, looking disgusted, "good heavens. I was hesitant when they informed me it was a young lady I was after, but…"

"Lady? Did they call me that? Gods above." She snorts, and turns to him with a hand on her hip. "Look, mate, I could take a stab in the dark at who hired you and be right almost surely, and I'm not coming quietly. So why don't you do yourself a favor and walk away."

His brows raise. He looks genuinely incredulous. "I _beg_ your pardon."

"Walk away." She reiterates, voice lowering dangerously. "Now."

… Well, the ensuing scuffle sees half the tavern in shambles, and the two of them clashing their way out onto the once peaceful streets of Port Royal as a lot of confused, drunken sailors stagger out of their way. Emily is grinning by now, feeling the usual rush that comes with a bit of a challenge, and even begins her usual dance, though she is hindered some by her dress.

He's pushing them further out of the town, more towards the beach than the actual docks.

The man, whoever he actually is, is gasping for breath by now. He pulls back and pauses as the last of the taverns patrons disappear into the night. "You fight like a hurricane."

"I had excellent instructors."

"You're a _woman_."

She smirks a bit as she twirls her sword. "I offered to spare your pride. It's been my experience that it's you men who are the more sensitive."

He straightens up, shrugging. "Now, you know, I really do feel sorry for this."

"Oh, I haven't taught you what sorry is yet."

"No, no. I feel sorry because the joke is on you, Miss Turner. Captain, Captain. Do forgive me, the idea is rather much to wrap my head around." He's sheathed his sword, is rolling out his shoulder. "Damn. I told them this style of fight wasn't my forte, you know, but when one is offered such a wondrous sum..."

Brows furrowed, she eyes him, sword still at the ready. "Care to share what this joke is?"

"The joke is that they tracked down a hunter just to get you out in the open, and you haven't presented too much a challenge for me. Though, I suppose one must be prepared for anything when dealing with such strange creatures."

"Hunter?" She's not sure what's going on anymore, but she knows this does _not _sound good. Goddess-given instinct begins to try and take over. That familiar pressure of her magic starts to build and, tentatively, she allows it to. "Hunting – what, exactly?"

"Why – you really don't understand? Oh, dear. By God, I really do feel terrible about this, but I've come too far now." And he glances over her shoulder, is eyeing up something behind her. "Good luck, Captain, I wish it to you truly. I should say you'll be needing it."

She feels it behind her, and continues to think _it _even after she spins around to find it's in the form of what must have once been a human woman. Because _it _is glowing. It's a haggish old crone with stringy, braided hair and beady eyes and it's _glowing_. Emily's never seen this before. She doesn't like it. She soon finds she's right to.

She knows well by now how to throw up a shield, something strong if not complex, and does so with ease. The shield itself holds as a blast of magical energies hits it full force. Emily, on the other hand, ends up buried up to her ankles in the sand, several feet back from where she had been to start.

The witch doesn't keep going, though. She stalks forward, beady, glowing eyes staring at Emily with a disturbing sort of curiosity. "Strong, strong, strong little thing."

Eyes widening, Emily stumbles a bit as she tries to back up, holding up two hands now glowing bright and faintly blue with her own magic. "Yes. Strong. Right. So – stay back."

"Strong, yes, show me." She pushes forward a little further. "Show, show, show."

Emily, feeling a strange sort of panic well up, sends two streams of raw magic shooting out to hit the witch full force. The witch is thrown back, further than Emily had been, but doesn't appear hurt. In fact, she laughs.

"Yes, yes, oh so strong his Captain!"

His? Oh, and there it is again. One guess, that's all Emily would need. "What do you want from me?"

"I want?" The witch's brows furrow now. "I want, I want… so silly, his Captain. _He_ wants, wants you, wants...wish we could play more. Oh, what fun, what fun!"

Emily blinks, brows furrowing. She's trying to process this, it was just starting to make sense, but now she…she can't… "His Cap-I don't-who's he?" She understood, she thought, just a moment ago, where did it go?

"Oh, and he'll be so pleased. So easy. Thought you'd be more hurt, he did, but I can be clever too, can't I? Oh yes, yes, yes."

"Clev-clever?" Emily stutters, blinks, sways on her feet. Everything's going fuzzy in a way so unpleasant it couldn't possibly be from the rum (which she hadn't had enough of, besides.) She brings up her hands as a little voice that sounds awful like her goddess tells her she needs to throw up another shield, something different, something…but she can't. Can't think. The worlds gone so fuzzy and she's tired, goddess, she just wants to sleep.

Just…wants…

* * *

><p><em><strong>And…thus ends the longest chapter I think I've written yet. Hope you enjoyed! :)<strong>_


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